Reminiscent
by abovethenightsky
Summary: Set alternately in PoAish Era and Marauders' Era.  Remus loves Sirius.  Sirius loves Remus.  If only everything were that simple.  If only there wasn't a war.  RLSB bits and pieces through the years.
1. Darkness

**1: Darkness**

The posters are everywhere. Posters with pictures, pictures which laugh maniacally at Remus Lupin from every wall of the Three Broomsticks, the haunted face of a man he no longer knew. The prisoner is, in actuality, silent, any sound halting at the razor-thin edge of the paper, but Remus thinks it seems a cold, cruel, crazy laugh. Whatever had possessed that man to commit such blood-chilling crimes, the ones which merited his incarceration, had surely driven him mad.

"HAVE YOU SEEN THIS WIZARD?" the headline screams.

_I almost wish_, says a voice in Remus' head, unbidden. _So I could take care of him myself, before he gets to Harry._ He finds his hand under his robe, on the handle of his wand, before he even realizes that he'd put it there. With a sigh, he unclenches his fingers and sets them back on the table.

It just wasn't right, what Sirius Black had done to Lily and James, to Peter, to those twelve Muggles who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, and, through that, to Remus. Remus remembers being absolutely incredulous at hearing the news of the betrayal, of Sirius's arrest just after the murder of Peter Pettigrew. Lily and James Potter had trusted Sirius beyond any doubt. Peter not only trusted Sirius, he looked up to him, as he looked up to all his friends. And Remus trusted Sirius. Of course. They had been friends. They had been –

Well, perhaps a bit more than friends.

And perhaps that's why there's still this nagging little doubt at the back of Remus' mind, that perhaps Sirius is innocent. The evidence, of course, is overwhelming in the other direction. Sirius had been the Potters' Secret-Keeper, and countless witnesses had seen him destroy Peter and the others. But Remus still recalls his younger self, upon being informed by Dumbledore on Sirius's involvement, crumpling to the ground, clutching the hem of Dumbledore's robe, nearly in tears, saying over and over, "No, no, not James and Lily…Peter…no, they've got it wrong, it wasn't Sirius…not Sirius, no…" And he still can see the older wizard's blue eyes, completely serious, without a trace of the usual sparkle, and full of pity and empathy, although Remus is sure Dumbledore had no idea what he was going through.

A part of him can't believe, even now, with the evidence that Sirius was going to come and finish off Harry, that the handsome, confident, sort-of-insane-but-only-in-the-risktaking-sense boy he'd gone to school with, and the man he'd grown to love, could possible have betrayed two of his closest friends, and kill a third. Remus couldn't have been that wrong. Not about Sirius.

But now Sirius had escaped. Unbelievable.

Remus returns his attentions to his butterbeer, a beverage he doesn't even plan to drink, which he had just gotten for its significance. It reminds him of his school days, sitting in the Three Broomsticks, just beyond the reaches of Hogwarts. Only this time he is a teacher, not a student, and he is sitting alone, without James, or Peter, or Sirius. He sighed. With all he knew now, all of the conflicting messages, he'd never felt more in the dark.

* * *

Remus was in the dark. Complete and utter darkness. He was somewhat used to dark, of course, used to sneaking out at night, but he was also used to some kind of light, from a wand, perhaps, or stars peeping through the boards of the Shrieking Shack. But this was dark, pitch black. Well, only way to go was forward. He took a tentative step, and felt- 

"Ah!"

"Ow, fuck. What-"

"Shhhh."

"Merlin's beard, Moony, you stepped on my foot!"

"Sorry," Remus said lamely, feeling foolish, "It's dark."

"_Yes_, it's dark," Sirius said. "But only for a second. Because no one should _see_ us coming out of the floorboards in the Honeydukes cellar. Relax, Moony. James and I do this all of the time."

"_You_ usually bring James's invisibility cloak," Remus muttered. He was feeling somewhat uneasy about this whole situation – sneaking out at night to buy butterbeer and sweets for James Potter, Quidditch hero, currently confined to the infirmary under the hawklike watch of Madame Pomfrey. It had, in fact, taken a lot of convincing for Remus to even consider going with Sirius. "But did you _see_ that dive?" Sirius had said. "It's a miracle he didn't break more than just his leg when he fell off catching the Snitch. He's going to be in the infirmary until morning, Pomfrey doesn't want him walking around. And come on, we owe him. He won us the match against Slytherin, right?"

Remus resisted, but Sirius persisted, and pouted, and persisted some more, until Remus finally gave in, finding himself, yet again, a partner-in-crime in one more situation which could, potentially, get him into trouble with the Powers-That-Be at Hogwarts School. Well, they only had a few months left here, anyway. This, at least, was Sirius' reasoning.

"You could have gotten Peter to come, easily," Remus pointed out.

"Peter would have been twice as useless as you," Sirius remarked, attempting to ruffle Remus's hair in the dark and nearly taking out his eye. "And plus, I wanted to get you out of that dusty library for once."

Remus had been spending more time in the library lately, but it wasn't because of the impending threat of exams. He'd been feeling progressively more awkward, more self-conscious, around James, Peter, and Sirius, and seemed to notice his differences, his comparative personality _boring_ness especially, more than ever. He hadn't been _hiding_, per se, just, well, avoiding. Especially Sirius, who seemed to seek him out when he decided to disappear.

"Look, here's the door already," Sirius said. Remus heard the soft squeak of hinges above his head, and then the darkness became a shade less opaque. He saw Sirius's silhouette climb through the door and followed it up.

The basement was only a little brighter than the secret passageway, light filtering out from a crack beneath the door. The boys tripped their way over boxes and up the stairs into the shop proper.

Honeydukes, stocked with sweets of all sorts, as always, was nearly empty. Well, of course it would be, at this time of night. They were near closing. There was only an elderly couple, a short, balding man and a tall, stern-looking woman, who didn't seem to notice the boys' rather unusual entrance. Even the woman who stood behind the counter wasn't a presence as she was the rest of the year, with a sweet-as-honey voice but a keen eye which caught any student who pocketed a sweet.

Remus and Sirius, unhampered by the usually crowds, ran up and down the sweetshop with as much unbridled energy as the proverbial kid in the proverbial candy store, stuffing sweets into a sack. Remus wanted to stick more to the traditional toffees, Fizzing Whizbees, Bertie Botts' Every Flavored Beans, and Chocolate Frogs ("You know," he told Sirius, "things you can actually _eat_."), while Sirius wanted to stock up on Cockroach Clusters and lollipops that would change the color of your nose ("We can use them on Snivellus," Sirius said, much to Remus' chagrin).

When Sirius rang the bell on the countertop, the woman, who emerged from the back storage room ("How many bloody storage rooms can this place _have_?" asked Sirius, and Remus pointed out that they should be grateful that the cellar was there as well), seemed mildly surprised to see Remus, but not at all to see Sirius. How much business had she gotten from Padfoot and Prongs alone?

Now finished with Honeydukes, Sirius dragged Remus along towards the Three Broomsticks to collect the butterbeer, or, Sirius said, "Something a bit more potent." They were almost there when they saw a familiar figure "sliming" his way along the cobblestone streets, a little more quickly than usual.

"Is that _Snivellus_?" Sirius whispered, pushing Remus into a nearby alleyway.

"Ow! Hey-"

"Shut up!" Sirius said, a little harshly, Remus thought. "I want to see what he's up to." He craned his neck around the corner.

"Something nefarious, no doubt. Look, Sirius, why can't we just leave the poor guy alone for once?" Remus pleaded for the umpteenth time. He pulled Sirius' sleeve, and Sirius, in irritation, turned around. "Sir-"

"Wait just a tick," Sirius said, shaking him off and looking back out at the street. "He's disappeared." When Remus looked confused, he added, "He must have turned a corner and now he's gone. Kapeesh. Poof. Vanished."

"Well, good for him then."

"Hold my wand," Sirius said, thrusting the wand in Remus' face. In confusion, Remus took it. "I don't like this. I'm going to follow him. I'm going Padfoot."

"You're _what_?! No! Sirius, that's not a good-"

Before he could even finish his sentence, the great black dog bounded off into the night, leaving a puzzled and somewhat exasperated Moony holding two wands and a bag of sweets.

* * *

_A/N: I will be away for nine days and won't be able to post an update until I'm back. In the meantime, please review, and I'll look forward to seeing your comments, good or bad, once I'm home. Mischeif managed!_


	2. Death Eaters Revealed

**2: Death Eaters Revealed**

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Remus whispers.

The Marauder's Map, on his desk next to a goblet full of Wolfsbane potion which he means to take later, reveals itself, and the map of Hogwarts spider-webs onto the page, bearing the familiar words at the top, "_**Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers, are proud to present **__**The Marauder's Map**_." Enchantments like these were made to last for years, for lifetimes, and Remus marvels at the beauty of it, how talented they had been, and how crazy. The handwriting was Sirius' practiced cursive, which he never used otherwise, at its neatest, the result of being schooled rigorously by his pureblood family. Remus traces his fingers along the words absentmindedly, remembering had they had all teased him for his "girl handwriting." He remembers that he had thought it pretty.

Well, they had all been wrong about Sirius, hadn't they?

…Or had they?

Sirius had been popping in and out of the Marauder's Map from time to time, but whenever Remus went to find him – to confront him, or just to find him, Remus wasn't sure – he was gone. Surely not the behavior of an innocent man, running in and out of the Hogwarts grounds, most likely in disguise, as a dog. And he had slashed up the portrait of the Fat Lady, which did not point in his favor, nor was the fact that Ron had awoken to find a man with a knife by his bedside. Despite Remus' feeble hope, there was no way Sirius was blameless, no way he wasn't after Harry, no way he hadn't betrayed James and Lily, all those years ago. Remus glances back at the Map.

_No way_.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione are leaving Hagrid's hut, along with…Peter Pettigrew? No, it couldn't be…and yet the Map never lied, not once before. But Remus recalls that Harry, too, has seen Pettigrew's name on the parchment. And then something tickles his memory, something important. Harry's two friends, Hermione and Ron, hadn't been speaking for a time. _Surprising how teachers see everything_, Lupin thinks. _We'd never guess _that_ when we were young. I wondered if anyone else noticed when Sirius and I_ – no, concentrate. Concentrate. Why were they fighting? Perhaps he's heard something in passing, something about…Something about a rat.

A rat. Ron had a rat. Sirius was standing over Ron's bed. Maybe that wasn't an accident, maybe Sirius didn't think Ron was Harry. It seemed incredible, and yet Sirius had had the opportunity to kill Harry, and he was over by Ron…a rat…Perhaps the desire to get into Gryffindor tower wasn't fueled by the madness, the urge to finish off the Potter clan. What if he was trying to kill Peter? But that didn't prove his innocence, it only meant that Peter had been able to save himself. But wait…what if Sirius and Peter had switched at the last minute? Thoughts flew, rapid fire, to Remus. It took a bit of imagination, but he can see it. Oh, Merlin, can he see it. He checks the map again. And again. Sirius barrels onto the page, colliding with Ron and the man who Remus is now almost positive is Ron's pet rat, dragging them both into the Whomping Willow. He closes the Map, pockets his wand, and starts off, his legs shaking.

A rat.

Maybe, just maybe, Remus was about to find out how much of a rat Peter Pettigrew was.

* * *

"This is madness," Remus mutters, "Utter madness." 

He was running, as fast as he could while encumbered with the sack of sweets, after Padfoot, who was at top speed, pausing only to sniff the ground and pick up the scent once again. _We must be a sight_, Remus thought. _A sickly-looking boy chasing after a gargantuan dog in the middle of the night with a bulging bag on his back_. _It would be a hysterical photograph if it weren't actually happening to me_.

Sirius took Remus around corners, down narrow spaces between houses, and, at one point, over a low fence. Remus began to get a bit suspicious himself. Why would Snape take such a winding path if he _wasn't _up to something? Did he suspect that he was being followed? Surely someone would only take a path this erratic if they were afraid of being followed. There was no way to tell. He wished Sirius would slow down and be rational for once, instead of bounding and leaping eagerly at everything.

He wished Sirius would slow down, _period_. It was the night before the full moon and he was fading, fast. He wasn't sure how long he could go on like this.

After a thankfully short while, they passed the Shrieking Shack, taking them farther outside of Hogsmeade than Remus could ever remember being. A turn around a corner, a short climb up a hill, and they came upon a rather handsome house, all brick and stone and creeping vines. It looked…aged, but not as if it were worn down, just as if it had been inherited many, many times, and unkempt, it's current owner having left it alone for years. _Pureblood property_, Remus thought. _Whoever owns this place is so preoccupied with their main mansion that they've forgotten about it. _Sirius crashed through the overgrown shrubs without any thought whatsoever, stopping at the door, nosing the knob with a whine.

"All—right," Remus panted, staggering, clutching his side, utterly exhausted. "You're—so—lazy, you know. Ugh. You—could—just—change back—and turn it yourself."

Sirius licked Remus' hand in thanks as the door creaked open. The dog didn't bound off inside, but took a slower pace, allowing his companion to catch his breath. Nose to the floor, he led Remus down the long and gloomy-looking hallway. Portraits, so dusty as to be unrecognizable, snoozed in their frames. Dead flowers slumped in their vases. Padfoot nearly slipped on the floor from all of the grime.

"Charming," Remus remarked. His voice seemed to rebound back at them from all quarters and startled both boy and dog momentarily, and they exchanged a wary glance before continuing.

Light was leaking out of the door at the end of the hallway. It was pale light, unearthly light, green and dim. Only wand light could look like that. Very unfriendly wand light. Remus felt in his pocket for his wand and found Sirius' as well.

"Next one."

The voice, a drawl, cruel and sneering, cut through the silence. Remus nearly jumped out of his skin. He could _remember_ that voice. "That's Lucius Malfoy," he whispered to Sirius, crouching by the doorway. "He was a sixth year our first, remember? Prefect. Slytherin House. You turned his hair bright orange in a prank that was meant for Snape and nearly cost us our-"

Padfoot dug his paw into the soft skin on the back of Remus' hand, as a warning to shut up. The dog motioned his head towards the interior, and Remus could just make out a very familiar shadow. Few other Hogwarts students had noses that distinctive.

"State your name," Malfoy said, stoic.

"Severus Snape."

"Ah yes," Malfoy muttered, almost to himself. "I remember you. My House. Bright boy, particularly with Potions, if I remember correctly."

"You do, sir, thank you." Snape's voice dripped sickeningly with poisonous modesty.

"Indeed…Blood status?"

"Half," Snape admitted with disdain. "Mother's side. Eileen Prince."

"Hmm." Malfoy contemplated this, and Sirius and Remus looked at each other, dog and boy, nose-to-nose. Remus recalled that Lucius Malfoy had been one of those Slytherins who Sirius had hated with a particular passion; he came from an old pureblood line which looked down on anyone who wasn't the same, purely wizard-born, all the way up their family tree. Perhaps Sirius was reminded of his own family.

"Your friend Avery has already informed us that you have quite the talent for the Dark Arts." Malfoy ruffled some paper, as if checking Snape's file for confirmation. "Excellent credentials. I'm sure you wouldn't mind demonstrating for us?"

"Just a small example," Snape muttered. "Wouldn't want to do any permanent damage."

"Of course not. Of course. Goyle, if you would be so kind as to volunteer."

The concealed pair heard two heavy, clunking footsteps, and a nervous tremor in Snape's voice as he shouted, "_Sectumsempra_!" and there was a burst of light and a brute- like cry of pain. Remus shivered, wondering what Snape had done to the man. He personally had never been one to tease Snape or believe in what James and Sirius called his "inherent evil," but he was becoming a believer, and quickly.

"Crabbe! Staunch his bleeding." Then, in a much less commanding tone, Malfoy purred, "Impressive. _Very_ impressive." Something was scribbled onto a piece of paper. "One final question, and then you are free to go, although you may tell no one of any face you have seen tonight, of any voice you have recognized, or of any name you have heard. We _will_ know, and we will find you."

"Naturally," Snape said, oily to the last.

"Tell us, why have you decided to join the Death Eaters?"

Remus' breath caught in his throat.

"Well…" Snape seemed to pause for a moment, then continued without hesitation. "It seems that I have finally found a cause which I can fully…get into."

Sirius growled, the hair on the back of his neck rising in a threatening manner. Remus whispered, "Sirius, no!" but it was too late.

"Did you hear something, Lucius?" asked a voice, a very female, _very_ familiar voice. Remus had to grab Sirius to keep him from lunging forward and tearing out the throat of his older cousin Bellatrix.

"I did," Lucius hissed. "By the door. Be quiet, and get behind me."

"Sirius, we need to get out of here!" Remus whispered, as the wand lights grew nearer and nearer. Padfoot's lips were pulled back from his gleaming white teeth in a snarl, his legs stubbornly refusing to move. Remus grabbed him by his haunches and tried to pull him backwards, but the massive dog would not move, paralyzed by his hatred. "Sirius, move!"

"I hear them! They're right there!" Bellatrix shrieked. The door which provided their visual cover exploded in a blinding flash, shards of wood flying everywhere. Remus threw his hands in front of his face as he was peppered by ancient oak splinters.

"Run!" he yelled.

He willed his legs to move as fast as they could as he saw the Death Eaters' curses fly past him. The portraits flashed by in blurs; some had awoken and were screaming at him. The footfalls behind him grew louder and more intense until they echoed in his mind, almost deafening, on the tile. His wand arm was flung out behind him as he shouted protective spells, desperate for some kind of cover. He burst through the front door, Padfoot barking like mad in front of him, doubling back, taking Remus' sleeve in his teeth and pulling him forward.

"I—can't—keep up—with you!" Remus gasped, his breath coming in ragged pants. They climbed the hill, rounded the corner, dashed towards the Shreiking Shack with all the strength they could muster. Remus was afraid his legs would give out on him – they felt like jelly, and it had nothing to do with a hex. Jets of light still flew at them from left right, one whizzing millimeters over Remus' head. He smelled singed hair, and wasn't sure whose it was. A completely unrelated wave of nausea swept over him.

Oh, he had picked a _wonderful_ time to be ill, hadn't he?

He tripped, stumbling down one of the slopes surrounding the Shack, tumbling down, down, out of the sight of the Death Eaters, out of the paths of any of the jets of light.

He must have hit his head on something on the way down, because he felt something wet and warm and sticky matting his hair. There wasn't a part of him that didn't ache. When he finally stopped rolling, he simply lay on his back, every muscle protesting movement, staring up at the starry, cloudless sky, at the almost full gibbous moon which glowed, unforgiving, back at him. He groaned and closed his eyes.

He heard the feet – animal, he registered, not human – pounding the ground, scrambling over rocks, and then they were pinning his shoulders down, uncut claws digging into the fabric of his sweater. And there was a long, rough, very wet tongue that was licking him all over his face. He could feel Sirius' tail hitting his ankles, wagging frantically, hopefully, as he tried to revive his fallen friend.

"Sirius," Remus managed weakly.

Remus didn't open his eyes to watch Sirius transform, but he could feel it, and it was the most bizarre thing. The wagging tail disappeared, the legs filled out while the torso became muscular and flat. The paws crushing Remus' shoulders lengthened into clinging fingers, and the tickling fur smoothed out into cloth and warm skin. Sirius' face was buried in his friend's neck, his lips brushing the place where Remus' neck met his shoulders. _Well_, he struggled to think, _there were worse places for lips to be._

_Or better_, a voice added wickedly.

"Dammit, Moony," Sirius murmured into his skin. "I though I was going to loose you." He got off of Remus, who instantly relaxed, and kneeled beside him. "Can you move?"

Remus blinked a couple of times, trying to process the important things past Sirius' concerned face, because there _were _important things past Sirius' concerned face, there were, such as the shouts of the Death Eaters in the distance, who had spotted them, doubling back from somewhere farther away. "It looks like I don't have a choice."

"I don't know," Sirius said lightly, helping him up. "I could carry you, which would be rather slow going, or we could stay here and probably both die."

"Ah. Well, I'll have to go with choice A then."

"You always were the bright student," Sirius supposed, eliciting a choked laugh from Remus. "Come on, I think we can make it to the-Ah!"

A curse zipped by Sirius' leg, and he grabbed Remus by the arm and started running again, his poor friend trying but dragging behind somewhat. The reached the Shack and darted inside, which gave the Death Eaters some pause. "Cowards," Sirius laughed, but nervously, because it might be moments before they made up their mind to follow the two boys.

Remus and Sirius dashed though the passageway, Sirius giving it enough thought to cast an illusion behind them which, if the Death Eaters should follow them into the Shack, would make it seem like there was solid wall where the entrance to the tunnel was. They moved as fast as they could, Remus' poor legs nearly giving out several times, not even daring to light their way with a simple _Lumos_ for fear that someone might see. When they finally, _finally, _reached the entrance, they ran out so quickly that the Whomping Willow didn't even have any time to lash out at them. And they didn't stop running. Though they should long have been in their dorms, they tore through the halls, not caring if someone saw them, because they knew they wouldn't feel safe until they were in their rooms, not with Death Eater recruits walking the halls of their school.

"My, aren't you two a sight," the Fat Lady remarked, but they just shouted the password at her and ran inside, through the common room, where the few people there gave them very strange looks, and up the stairs.

They collapsed, panting, on the first bed they came to, which belonged to Remus. They lay there for a few minutes in silence, attempting to catch their breath, before either of them said anything. "You okay?" Sirius asked finally.

"Yeah," said Remus. "Actually, you know what, no, no, I am definitely not okay. And do you know why? Because my legs are probably never going to work properly again, I've probably suffered permanent brain damage from hitting my head, my sweater has holes in it from your large and very sharp canine teeth, the school could, for all we know, be full of little Death Eaters recruiting people like Snape, and we could have been killed! I mean, I know we've done tons of stupid stuff before, but this is much bigger than that, and if they'd gotten us, they probably would have, have _Avada Kedavara_'d us, and then thrown our bodies into the Forbidden Forest to be eaten by – what are you doing?"

Sirius was shaking with laughter. "Oh, Moony," he nearly choked, hitting his friend with a pillow.

"Hey!" Remus batted the pillow away, adopting a less frantic tone. "Will you listen? I'm serious. I mean, what we saw back there, that was bigger than you, than me, even than Snape, who you were right about, by the way, and you're probably not going to hear me say that ever again. Don't you understand? Voldemort's recruiting followers, and not just any old git who wants to join, no. They're going through some kind of – of _selection_ process, to get the most useful – Sirius, are you listening to me? Sirius?"

He heard a very soft snore and looked over his shoulder. Sirius had fallen asleep, the side of his face pressed in the pillow, black hair fanning out around him like a halo. "I guess not," Remus muttered, feeling a bit drowsy himself. He should really wake Sirius up and get him back to his own bed, he really should. But then, he watched Sirius' chest rise and fall, felt the soft rhythm of his breath, and decided that he would wake Sirius up in a few minutes. He just looked too peaceful.

Remus felt his eyelids drooping and closed his eyes, drifting off, soon following the example of his friend.

* * *

_A/N: Chapter reposted because of a few errors. Also, I should take a moment and thank my excellent beta Remy, without whom this would not be up here._

_You know the deal, friends. Review and I'll love you forever. Mischeif managed._


	3. The Plot Thickens

_A/N: Author's note at the beginning this time, it makes the most sense. Kudos and thanks to LadyAnalyn for picking up on something that both Remy and I missed - Remus shouldn't have closed the Map, that was my mistake for not reading Book 3 closely enough. Good thing someone's paying attention, eh? And the time line will actually be somewhat uneven, as I want this to run from Books 3-7 in the "present" and at least until Harry's first birthday in the "past."_

_You know the deal, folks. R & R and I will love you forever. Happy reading, and mischeif managed._

* * *

**3: The Plot Thickens**

Remus's heart pounds inside of his chest with every step he takes in the darkened passageway. It is like the old days, somehow, racing down to the Shrieking Shack at night. Except this time, he runs alone, and the Shack at the end of the secret tunnel is not empty, but holds one person, and maybe, just maybe, two people, that he hasn't seen in years. The remaining Marauders, reunited again, for a very short and very desperate time.

He stumbles into the Shack and, from what he can see, no one is there. He takes some tentative steps towards the stairs and hears Hermione scream, "WE'RE UP HERE! WE'RE UP HERE – SIRIUS BLACK – QUICK!" That's the only excuse he needs to burst up the stairs. The door at the top is locked, but with a well-placed _Alohamora!_ it flies open, almost on its own free will, and Remus bursts through it.

The first person he sees is Ron, on the floor, whose leg is at an awkward angle that no leg should ever be in, then Hermione, clutching two wands with such intensity that her knuckles are turning white and looking absolutely terrified. There's Harry, the image of his father, looking relieved and confused and almost annoyed to see Professor Lupin, his wand pointing to the broken man on the floor with the cat clinging to his chest.

Sirius looks terrible. His eyes, always so bright, seem dulled, and they have sunken back into his face, giving his head the appearance of a skull. His skin looks as if it hadn't seen any light for years, which it hasn't, of course, a result of his imprisonment in Azkaban. His hair is filthy, and it has grown down to his elbows, something Sirius would never have allowed under normal circumstances. But the thing that worries Remus the most was how thin Sirius is, like a skeleton. Remus had always been the sickly one, the weak one, but Sirius, battered and bloody, seems like he is about to snap in two.

_Don't get carried away_, Remus reminds himself. _He still could be a cold-blooded killer_. Well, it was time to find out, no distractions. He easily disarms Hermione and Harry, who looked crushed, and Remus suddenly realizes that Harry must think his teacher is robbing him of rightful revenge. Well, if Remus is right, he isn't robbing Harry of anything. He is very tense when he finally speaks. "Where is he, Sirius?"

Sirius stares blankly at him for a moment, and Remus fears, briefly that he is terribly, terribly wrong. But then Sirius points a wasted hand at Ron, holding his rat, and all of the thoughts came streaming back to Remus. He says them out loud, in half-finished sentences, to try and find some kind of organization for it. "But then…why hasn't he shown himself before now?" He's watching Sirius, watching him closely, for a reaction, any reaction. _Please_. "Unless—unless he was the one…unless you switched…without telling me?"

Sirius nods, and that is all the confirmation Remus needs. He crosses to Sirius, helps him up, the great cat falling off of his chest and landing feet to the floor. He can feel the six stunned eyes of his students upon them as he embraces Sirius, feeling, reassuringly, a tangible human being under his fingers, someone he hasn't touched for more than twelve years.

There are a couple of seconds of shocked silence from the peanut gallery. Sirius leans into Remus, just a bit, as if he is afraid Remus will let him go. He's _frighteningly_ thin, and Remus can feel the shoulder blades jutting prominently beneath his fingers. "Sirius," he whispers, so quietly that he isn't even sure if Sirius can hear him. But he hears his own name escape Sirius' lips, like a sigh, a release. "_Remus_."

"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Hermione screams.

Remus lets go of Sirius. They owe explanations, too many to be left unspoken. Well, they were bright students, and they would see reason. They would understand, once it was explained to them.

_Sirius was innocent_.

* * *

"What the hell are you two _doing_?!" 

Remus awoke with a start, and the first thing he was aware of was someone's hands around his waist, and the second thing he was aware of was that same someone's face was in his hair, and that he was pleasantly warm. And then that person snuggled a bit closer, and Remus realized that it was Sirius, and he almost jumped out of his skin. He _did_ jump out of the bed, jostling Sirius, who was still asleep. He could sleep through just about anything.

"Oh _God_," he exclaimed, flustered for a moment without really realizing why. Peter and James were laughing, James holding a little black box-like object that Remus recognized all too well. "No, no, you _didn't_. James, give me my camera back."

James tossed him the camera, and Remus, who wasn't good with hand-eye coordination, would have missed it if not been for James' unerring aim. He looked up just in time to see James pocket a developing picture. Remus sat down at the foot of his bead with his head in his hands.

Sirius chose that time to wake up. He yawned, blinked, and looked around, noticing James' presence before anything else. "Wotcher, James," he said, oblivious to the whole photo conflict. "Moony and I tried to get you some sweets last night, but-"

Remus suddenly remembered everything they'd bought at Honeydukes, now lying abandoned in the sack which was, unless someone had moved it, probably sitting by the broken door frame in the mansion where the Death Eaters had met. "Oh James, I'm sorry!" he practically shouted, cutting Sirius off. "We snuck out to Honeydukes last night – Sirius' idea – but—"

"You got lost, no doubt," James said wryly, "in each other's tender embraces?" Peter sniggered.

"What have you been smoking?" Sirius asked. "And whatever it is, can I get some?"

"Sorry, mate." James was grinning. "Photographic evidence." He took the photo out of his back pocket and dangled it in front of Sirius's face. Sirius snatched it away, studied it, and burst out laughing. Remus laughed too. Awkwardly.

"Oh Remus!" Sirius cried loudly, in a faux high-pitched voice. "How can you do this to me? It was supposed to be between us! One night! No strings attached! And now you persist in this…blackmail! How could you?"

"Er…sorry?"

Sirius put his hand to his forehead and pretended to faint back onto the bed. James was cracking up on the side.

"Alright, alright," James finally conceded. "Some gay lovers you are. Now what's the real reason? I'm sure there must be some explanation for why Peter decided to come visit me in the hospital wing without either of you, and why you slept in your clothes, and the state of Remus' hair."

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"It's all singed at the top," said Peter, indicating the area by rubbing his own head. Remus put his hand there and, sure enough, felt the rough, burnt follicle endings under his fingers.

"I can fix it," said Sirius.

"You can give haircuts?" This was James, incredulous. Remus looked at Sirius' hair – it was always so long, comparatively – and doubted that he knew what a proper haircut was.

"Sure."

"O…kay. So anyway," James segued, sitting down on Remus' trunk. "The story?"

"Oh yes." Sirius leaned forward with a secretive air. "Well, you see-"

At that inopportune moment, the door clicked open to admit Frank Longbottom, who seemed not quite awake despite being dressed, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, who looked, as always, stoic. "Hey guys," Frank yawned. "What's going on? We heard some kind of noise – was Sirius imitating a girl again?"

"Sirius," James said, oblivious to Sirius' attempts to get him to stop talking through frantic hand motions, "was about to tell us a story."

"Oh," said Frank. "What-"

"No story," Sirius cut in quickly. He was winking at James and Peter with his left eye, a "_we'll talk about this later when it's just the four of us_" wink. "I _thought_ I was going to tell a story, but then I, er, forgot what it was."

"You can't have forgotten already!" James pointed out, exasperated.

"Er-" Sirius' winking grew frenzied now, and Peter finally noticed.

"Hey, Sirius! Your left eye is twitching something awful."

Sirius gave up. "Thank you, Peter." His voice dripped with sarcasm, and he shot James a look that said, very plainly, "_tell you later_." "I should get that checked out. Come with me, Moony." And with that, he stood up and walked out of the room, and Remus followed, leaving four very puzzled boys behind them.

"Why did you do that?"

"I didn't want them to ask you any questions," Sirius explained, taking him down the stairs. "I just think it's something we should keep…between us. The four of us."

"Alright," said Remus, a little surprised. Maybe Sirius _had _gotten the message about this matter being "bigger than them." Maybe that's why he was treating it with such importance. "Can we go to the hospital wing anyway? Madame Pomfrey should have something for these cramps." He took a step, and winced. The pain in his legs would not be going away for awhile, not after last night.

Sirius held the portrait open for him in a mock-genteel fashion, and Remus grinned. The grin didn't last very long, though, because the person he least wanted to see right then was lurking right outside of the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Hello, Snivellus," Sirius piped cheerfully. "Have a good night's sleep?"

"Not particularly." Snape glowered down his long, crooked nose at them. He looked like he'd had a rough night. There were circles under his eyes and his hair, already oily, was in particular disarray. "I would expect you two to know all about that."

The smile on Sirius' face wavered a bit but remained fixed. "And why would we know anything about what goes on in _your_ bed?"

"You know what I mean!" Snape snapped. He looked Remus up and down, from torn pant leg to singed hair, and smirked. "I think you know _exactly_ what I mean."

"Why don't you go play with your Death Eater friends," Sirius suggested, giving Snape a bit of a shove, "and leave us alone?"

Remus expected Snape to retaliate, but all he did was turn on his heel and leave, smirk still on his face, swishing his robe behind him. "You shouldn't have said that," Remus whispered, watching Snape's receding form. He suddenly felt dirty, and very conscious of his disheveled appearance, particularly his hair, and very, very ill. He staggered backwards, woozy. Sirius caught him before he fell.

"I need to go change," Remus groaned. "And I may take you up on that haircut offer."

And that was how Remus ended up sitting on the floor of his bedroom with his head between Sirius' knees.

"If you would just—hold—still," Sirius grunted.

"I can't believe you're letting him do this," James said for at least the third time. "I wouldn't willingly give Sirius Black a pair of sharp pointy objects and say 'Hey! Use these on me!'" He eyed them both over whatever magazine he was reading to make sure that Remus' head was still on. "You're just _asking_ for trouble."

"I'm almost finished, and he's still intact," Sirius protested. He went in for a pesky clump of hair right by the side of Remus' face, and Remus cried out as the scissors nicked his ear. "…Mostly," Sirius added. "Don't worry, just one—more—snip, there we go, and you're done."

He guided Remus over to a mirror and let him study his appearance. What he saw made him gasp.

"Oh _no_," Remus said, "I have James hair!"

"You sort of _do_," mused Peter. "It's all sticky-uppy in clumps."

"Hey," James objected. "Even my hair isn't that bad."

"Oh bugger," Sirius said. "Just give me a second." And he swished his wand in a pattern that Remus had never seen before, and suddenly Remus' hair was back to normal, singe-free and all. "I used to do this when dear old Mummy made me cut it."

"Why," Remus asked through clenched teeth, "didn't you just use that in the first place?"

Sirius shrugged. "I wanted to see if I could cut hair. You know, in case this magic thing doesn't work out for me." And with that deep and insightful statement, he left the room and headed down to breakfast.

"I don't know what's gotten into him lately," James said. "He's gone completely barking mad."

Classes that day took all of Remus' patience and energy to get through. Potions in particular was a trial, as it was Remus' poorest subject in any case (which didn't mean too much, really, as he was still decent at it and at least knew, by now, how to prevent his cauldron from exploding), and he couldn't concentrate at all with Snape glaring at him from across the room. His hand shook as he minced his ingredients, and, after the potion turned bright pink instead of deep red, Sirius noticed, attributed the tremors to Moony feeling under the weather, and took over. Remus slumped back in his chair, feeling annoyingly, irritably helpless.

By the time the afternoon came, he was looking to get away, from Snape, who seemed to be around every corner, and Sirius, who was treating him like he was made of porcelain, and James and Peter, who kept hounding him about last night's adventure. He made up a lame excuse to head to the library ("NEWTs are coming up, if you had any sense you'd be there too" knowing full well that Sirius and James had no sense) and ran off before any of the others could follow him.

Always, always the first thing that Remus noticed when he entered the library was the smell of books. The musty smell of old books, the fresh smell of new books, the dusty smell of books that had been left in a corner for a little too long, the peculiar smell which emanated from some of the shadier looking books in the restricted section, all of these scents blended together in a combination which could instantly make Remus unwind. He sat down at his usual table, in the back, and opened one of the older books he had been reading the previous day.

Remus loved books. On many occasions, he preferred books to people. A book wouldn't ever get angry with you or intentionally make you feel badly about yourself. It was impossible to feel awkward around a certain book like you would around a certain person. Books would never make fun of you for reading them too much, or convince you to participate in risky and potentially dangerous schemes. Books stayed put on their shelves, whereas people moved around all of the time and you could _never_ find the one you were looking for. And books could be so much more straightforward, and yet so much more complex, than people. Then again, books would never reward you. Books would never love you back. _Not that there was much of a chance of that with anyone_.

"Hey, Remus."

Remus looked up. It was Peter. Peter in the library? He must not be feeling well. Or perhaps Remus was hallucinating. He remembered Sirius teasing Peter once about his reading ability. Or lack thereof. It didn't hurt Peter's feelings, really, but Sirius could be cruel sometimes.

"Well, hello Peter," Remus said kindly. "What's going on?"

"Not much," Peter replied. "I just wanted to come see where you were, is all. You've been disappearing an awful lot lately."

"I have?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure James and Sirius have noticed, I mean, I'm sure they have, it's just, they act different around me when you're not there, they're not as…" Peter swallowed. "So anyway, I was wondering why you keep leaving."

The words "_I told you, studying for NEWTs_" died on Remus' lips, and he studied the smaller, pudgy boy with pity. Peter was studying his hands in his lap as if they were the most interesting things he'd seen today. "Peter," he began carefully, honestly, "Do you ever feel…awkward? Like, like you're always saying the wrong thing, and whatever you do, people are going to think badly of you?"

Peter looked up. "Yeah," he said. "All the time."

"Really?"

"Yeah, all the time," Peter repeated. "But I don't see how you could feel that way, Moony. I mean, you always know what to say. You're so smart, and I know that James and Sirius think so too."

Remus chuckled a little. "Sirius would call me a girl for even talking to you like this."

"Well, he likes you. He just shows it by making fun." From the way he said it, Remus could tell this was something Peter often thought to himself, that his friends really did like him, they just expressed it in a way he didn't really understand.

Remus reached over and awkwardly patted Peter on the shoulder. He'd never been good with physical contact, touching people, and Peter seemed surprised. "Thanks. I don't feel so bad now, talking about it."

Peter smiled, glad to be helpful for once, and it lit up his entire face. "Yeah, sure. Glad to help. Hey, can you do me a favor and tell me where the books about Astronomy are? I figure…I figure I might need some extra help if I'm going to have a chance at passing the NEWTs this year."

Remus pointed him in the direction of the proper shelf, feeling somewhat better as his friend waddled away. Peter seemed to understand him, at least partially, and Remus felt that he's gotten more of a sense of what his friend was like. Maybe he wasn't so alone. Maybe it actually was a teenage thing, as he had been told in the past.

It was barely five minutes before he had another unexpected visitor. "Wotcher, Moony," James said, plopping down in the chair that Peter had so recently occupied. "Where's your girlfriend?"

"I-I'm sorry," Remus stuttered. "What?"

"Well," James explained, "You were making excuses all of the time, walking out, saying you were going to the library, that I thought you must be up to something, and that was the only thing I could think of. And then I looked at the Map, and there you were, sitting in the library, alone. So no girl?"

"No girl," Remus confirmed. "Just because your world revolves around one girl doesn't mean everyone else's has to."

James turned a rather unattractive shade of pink at the mere insinuation of Lily, and his hand strayed to his hair, as if he were about to mess it up for her. "So, er, what are you doing in here by yourself?" he asked, attempting a subject change. "Wanking?"

"_Reading_. I know it might be hard for you to understand, but some people do that sort of thing for fun."

"But—" James wrinkled his nose. "_Why_?"

"Because," Remus began, thinking that maybe the same tactic that worked with Peter would work with James, "Sometimes I get uncomfortable around you guys, and I need to get away."

_Sirius would laugh_, was all that Remus could think. _Sirius would laugh_. But James just blinked at him. "Really?"

"Yeah." Remus felt the sudden urge to defend himself. "I know it's silly, but—"

"No, no, it isn't silly, not at all," James hurries. "I mean, everyone feels that way sometimes, no matter what you might think. I mean, I might seem cool, confident, handsome," –he fussed with his hair again– "you know, all that, but even I feel that way sometimes."

"Mostly in the presence of a certain redhead," Remus interjects.

"Okay, that was uncalled for. No, but seriously, Remus, when you feel like that, you can, you know, tell us, you don't have to go all weird and disappear. That's what friends are here for, you know, support." Emotional appeals weren't James' forte, but he was trying, and the effort made Remus feel better.

"You said you guys were here to corrupt me," Remus pointed out.

"That too," James agreed. "But anyway, I hope that that, you know, helped a little."

"Yeah, it did. Thanks." And Remus was surprised to find that that was true. Between Peter and James, he felt a whole lot better. Probably because neither of them was Sirius. "Oh, and James? Can I have that picture you took earlier?"

"Sure," said James, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the incriminating photograph, which was folded down the middle. "Why do you want it, anyway? Going to wank off to it later?"

"What _is_ it with you and wanking?" Remus cried, throwing his hands up in exasperation. He knew James was joking, of course. All of his friends probably thought he had the sexual tendencies of a rock. "Of course not. I'm going to burn it. I'm going to make sure it never sees the light of day again."

"That's a shame. You and Sirius were a cute couple. For the two minutes it lasted." James grinned and stood up. "Reminds me, would you come back to the common room? Padfoot's finally going to tell the story of whatever you two were _actually_ doing last night, and he wants you to be there. To help deflate him when his ego gets too big, I guess."

Remus, photograph still between his fingers, shoved two of the more interesting books under his arm and followed James back, feeling a whole lot more confident in himself after talking with two of his best friends. But the minute he stepped through the portrait—BAM—the feeling was gone, just like that. Sirius was lounging in a chair by the fireplace, perfectly relaxed, chatting up three very pretty sixth-year girls, and suddenly Remus felt very, very small again.

"Oi!" Sirius called. "What took you two so long? Sorry, ladies, maybe some other time." The girls tittered and scattered. Only then did Remus notice Peter sitting attentively by Sirius' feet, clearly waiting for story time to begin. James joined him, looking at Sirius expectantly, then at Remus, eyebrow raised, to say "_Aren't you coming too_?"

"I'll be over here," Remus muttered, gesturing with his books at a nearby couch, "in case you need me to jump in and take over." He saw Sirius give him a quizzical look, and then shrug, and turn to James and Peter, leaning forward and speaking in low, conspiratorial terms.

Remus sighed and sat, alone, on the couch, curled up next to one of the armrests. He opened the book in his lap, preparing to be immersed in a tale of a particularly brutal battle from the Goblin Wars, but it took several times reading the same sentence over and over to realize that he wasn't interested in it. Instead, he set the photo of him and Sirius sleeping on the pages and studied it. It would be a shame to toss it into the fire. From that angle, Remus' hair looked halfway normal, but the scars on his face were, at least to him, very noticeable, and he didn't like that. He never liked the way he looked in photographs; he never liked the way he looked, period. What he _did_ like, though, was Sirius' expression, a sort of dreamy half-smile into Remus' shoulder. In the lighting, Sirius looked handsome, every possible angle, every wrinkle in his shirt exploited to somehow make him look, well…

It wasn't going to work. It _wasn't_. Sirius Black was just about as straight as a line. Or a stick. Or something else very, very straight.

Which didn't stop Remus from looking at him, of course, but he knew he shouldn't even be doing _that_. Not if he had any hope of sustaining something like a normal conversation with him. He tried to think thoughts of Goblins, and how it was obviously important that they had gone to war with the wizards, and how fascinating that should be to him, but he keep seeing the photo out of the corner of his eye, and then he would look at the real Sirius, whose back was to Remus, who looked so laid back, with his black hair casually mussed up (_hypocrite_, Remus thought, _he's always telling James _not_ to do that_) and his tie draped over his shoulders instead of tied properly, like Remus' was. And while Remus knew that his attractiveness wasn't entirely a looks thing, that he had an incredibly magnetic personality, it was hard to overlook how good-looking his friend _was_.

"Hey, Moony," Sirius called, "What happened after—"

Remus shut his book. "Sorry," he said. "Not right now. I need some…fresh air."

"You _hate_ fresh air," Peter pointed out.

Remus didn't even bother to reply. He just stood up, walked out of the common room, and down the hall, without glancing back. And even though he was away from them, he didn't stop walking. He walked, and walked, until he realized he was not only outside, but by the perimeter of the school, by the massive trees that marked the beginning of the Forbidden Forest. He sat down on a stump that must have been almost as wide as he was tall and cradled his head in his hands. What was he going to _do_ with himself?

He heard a shout from the direction of the castle, and saw a figure running down the gently sloping hill towards him. Remus closed his eyes. Peter, James, Sirius…whoever it was, he just wanted, more than anything, to be alone at the moment. He felt whoever it was sit down next to him and wished that he had James' Invisibility Cloak with him.

"The view from here," Sirius remarked, "is absolutely brilliant, Moony. Just look at that."

Remus opened his eyes and looked where Sirius was pointing. The many towers of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry loomed majestically against the sky, silhouetted in light which was slowly fading. Vibrant reds, bright oranges, and pale yellows were visible, mixing into a rosy pink at the horizon, where the sun was beginning to set. The colors played off of the lake, which sparkled like a jewel, and he thought he could see the giant squid splashing in it. The backdrop was, indeed, impressive, and Hogwarts, with all of its lit up windows and stone walls, looked like something out of a Muggle Fairy-Tale. Remus remembers it being something like this when he first came to Hogwarts, eleven, and much shier than he was now, if that could be believed. Then he had thought it threatening. Now it was home.

"Yeah," Remus agreed, trying to ignore the fact that he could_ feel_ Sirius looking at him as if he were some skittish animal, ready to bolt. Which he was. "Beautiful. I wish I could paint. Listen, Sirius, it's getting dark, and I really need to—"

"We have awhile yet," Sirius remarked, staring at the castle with focused intensity. "James and Peter said I should come talk to you. Since I hadn't gone already." He looked at Remus with soft, gray eyes. "What's the problem?"

"The problem," Remus stated matter-of-factly, "Is that I am, indeed, a teenage boy, and I'm going through my awkward and self-conscious phase. I've read that it's perfectly normal."

"Perfectly normal," Sirius repeated. "Oh, you don't mean all the stuff that—"

"No, no," Remus assured him. "I mean angst. I can't stand it, Sirius. I see myself becoming this—this antisocial tagalong who just watches you and James do all of the interesting stuff, and then you'll realize how boring I am and…" This wasn't it. This wasn't it at all. Yes, it was something he worried about, but it wasn't the main issue, not really. The main issue he had avoided talking about with James, or Peter, and he had still managed to come out of the conversations without feeling awkward and speechless.

"What are you _talking_ about?" Sirius asked. "Of _course_ you're not some ultra-shy dork who just hangs around with us. Otherwise we'd have ditched you a long time ago." It was meant to play for laughs, but didn't work. "Look, I like—James, Peter, and I like you because you're incredibly articulate, rational (when you have your head screwed on right, at least), attractive, have a sense of humor—"

"Did you just say _attractive_?"

"Did I?" Sirius asked. "Well, your nose could use a little bit of work, anyway. No, I'm kidding. But look, if we didn't value you as a friend, would we have gone and turned ourselves into Animagi after we learned you were a werewolf?"

"Well, if my lycanthropy didn't scare you off…" Remus began.

"Exactly," Sirius cut in. "You have nothing to worry about. I don't think anything else could put me off if that doesn't." He paused. "Did that help?"

_No_. "Yes," Remus said out loud, looking away. He hated lying. He was a terrible liar, and he knew Sirius probably could tell that he wasn't telling the whole truth. But what was he supposed to say? _Oh, and by the way, since you don't mind that I'm a werewolf, I guess it would be alright to tell you that I sort of like you. Like a boy likes a girl._ He sighed, and realized that the temperature was dropping, and he hadn't noticed until now. "I guess I'm just cold."

"Here." Padfoot, who Remus usually didn't accredit with having much sense, had at least had more sense than Moony, as he'd grabbed his cloak before he left the common room. He unfastened it and spread it out so that it covered both of their shoulders. "This better?"

"Um." Sirius' arm was around his shoulder, and Remus had never really been comfortable with being touched, so he recoiled a bit. It could be a werewolf thing, but he thought it came from the fact that, on principle, Remus hated his body, with all of its various scars and imperfections. Sirius wasn't noticing any of that, though, he was just sitting there with his arm around Remus' shoulder, and Remus wondered how something so innocent as sharing a cloak could seem so much more than that, and how it was possible that he was feeling this warm already. Then he decided that something could be communicated with more than just words, and put his head on Sirius' shoulder. "Yeah," he said. "A bit."

And then Sirius wasn't looking at the castle anymore, he was looking at Remus, meeting his gaze, and it _seemed_ as if they were moving closer, or _maybe_ Sirius was about to say something, or even—

A woman laughing, a burst of red light, and then Remus didn't notice anything more.


	4. Only Some Closure

_A/N: Hello loves, D here. Just wanted to drop a quick note, as usual, thanking Remy, my beta, my sister, who has been most helpful at poining out little slashy details in canon (it just works so much better if they _are_ a couple) and Bottlebrush and LadyAnalyn for reviewing, as well as all of you who have put this story on alert. I love hearing your feedback/comments/criticism, so feel free to share it with me by clicking the little blue "Review" button. Thank you!_

* * *

**4: Only Some Closure**

"Ah, Remus," Albus Dumbledore says, sitting at his desk with an expectant smile. "Come in. Take a seat."

Remus enters Dumbledore's study, crossing to the desk in three long strides, but does not sit down. Instead, he slams his hand down on the edge of the desk and starts speaking, unable to control his words, "Albus, you _must listen_. Sirius is an innocent man, Pettigrew's alive, I saw him myself, he was the one who betrayed Lily and James, I would have told you sooner only—you can't let the Dementors perform the Kiss, Albus, they have the wrong—"

"Remus, calm down," Dumbledore instructs, and Remus feels like a boy again, sticking up for James and Sirius, defending their latest prank. "Sit. Have a lemon drop, it will calm your nerves."

"_Have a lemon drop?!_" Remus is sure, almost sure, that he will completely lose all self control. He remembers being told that there is something off in Dumbledore's mind, but he has always held Dumbledore in the utmost respect, like a second father, and has never, ever believed it before now. He wants, he _needs_, to know the whole story. He'd heard bits and pieces in his brief appearance at breakfast, but most of those were isolated words and phrases like "Sirius Black," "capture," and "Dementor's Kiss."

"Pettigrew escaped, I'm afraid. Sirius was scheduled to receive the kiss last night, after his recapture," Dumbledore says calmly, as if he were talking about the weather. Remus sinks down into the chair, unable to speak. "However," Dumbledore continues, bright blue eyes sparkling behind his half-moon spectacles, "thanks to the cleverness and bravery of two of your students, with the help of a Time-Turner, both the lives of Sirius and the hippogriff Buckbeak, slated for execution, have been spared."

Remus exhales, calmly, after holding his breath for what seems like an eternity. He rests his head on the cool wood of the back of the chair, relief flooding over him. It was Harry, it had to have been Harry, who saved Sirius, and because Ron couldn't walk, Hermione must have helped, clever girl. He doesn't realize that he is grinning from ear to ear until he opens his mouth to speak again. "I'm sorry I didn't come to see you sooner, Albus, but I had to…return to the castle, and I was deep into the Forbidden Forest by sunrise. And then the fiasco at breakfast—"

"Ah," Dumbledore says knowingly.

"Which reminds me." Remus reaches into his pocket and pulls out several sheets of paper. Placing them in front of Dumbledore, he explains, "My resignation. You've already suffered enough at my expense, and I couldn't cause you any more trouble on account of my…furry little problem."

Dumbledore looks saddened but unsurprised. "I'm sorry to hear that, Remus. You will be sorely missed, not just by the staff." He meets Remus' eyes knowingly, and adds softly, "Harry drove off nearly a hundred Dementors last night."

Remus bows his head humbly and says, merely, "James would be proud." He stands up, ready to end the meeting, and closes with, "Thank you. I—I thank you." He turns.

"One more thing," Dumbledore calls. Remus turns back to face the Headmaster, still seated at his desk. "In light of very recent events, Remus, that is, evidence that Voldemort will soon rise again, once Pettigrew finds him, I have been contacting other members of the Order of the Phoenix. I am not saying that Voldemort will come to power next week – it could take months, even years, before we see the signs – but when he does, we need to be prepared."

"Now, as a functioning member of the Order," Dumbledore explains, "it is important, for the sake of a normal appearance, that you have some kind of occupation and somewhere to go. Oh yes," he says, registering Remus' surprise. "You didn't think I'd let you leave without having somewhere else to go, did you? Which is why I have taken the liberty of setting you up in a very _ordinary_, somewhat inexpensive flat, and a job – hold on, Remus – a job which, while probably not of an enormous amount of interest to you, you can surely duck out of once a month when you are feeling too under the weather. You're good with your excuses by now, I suppose." They blue eyes twinkle at Remus, who stands there, absolutely shocked, and with no idea of what to say. "Thank you" doesn't seem like enough.

"And," Dumbledore continues, "if you would do something else for me."

"Anything," Remus swears.

"Keep your ears peeled for news of Sirius Black," Dumbledore says. "It would be preferable to keep our friend alive, wouldn't you agree? Try to find him, before…before anyone else. Do you understand me?" Remus nods. He'd planned on doing this anyway, whatever else happened to him. Anyone else finding Sirius would surely result in disaster. "Although I'm confident, Remus, that one of you will find the other, eventually. After all," and Dumbledore says this with particular significance, "_you are all that he has left_."

_Did he know?_ Remus wonders as he shook Dumbledore's hand in awed silence. _Could he possibly, possibly know?_ "I should pack," Remus says out loud, and he turns, again, to leave.

"Remus—" He looks over his shoulder. Dumbledore is smiling at him. "Good luck."

* * *

Remus came to in a great, curved room, all arched windows and vaulted ceiling, and it took him a second to realize where he must be. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the splintered remains of a doorframe and he knew that this was the room that he and Sirius had eavesdropped upon last night. He then realized that there were ropes around his hands and feet and felt something smooth against his back and knew that he must be, somehow, against a wall. He tried to lunge forward, but couldn't; he could almost feel the spell that was keeping him there. He looked to his right and saw Sirius in the same situation, only much more alert and very irate.

"So kind of you to join us," said Lucius Malfoy's voice.

Remus looked up and saw at least a dozen hooded figures staring back at him, unmoving, each face hidden behind a mask. They were impossibly still, like statues, and lined around the room in a semi-circle, with the exception of Malfoy, who was in the center. The two on the edges had their wands pointed at Remus and Sirius, and Remus was sure that those were the ones who were responsible for their immobilization. If he could only reach his wand, he was sure that he would be able to counter the spell, and he noticed suddenly that his wand wasn't in his pocket, but on a table, by the door, far out of his reach.

"Hello Lucius," Sirius snarled. "Your hospitality is as generous as ever."

Malfoy's wand passed across his face, and the mask vanished. He was wearing an expression of extreme distastes as he stepped forward, within inches of Sirius' face, studying it. "I know you," he muttered. "You're a Black. The Black Sheep, as it were. Ran away from home, didn't you?"

"Very clever pun, Malfoy." Sirius' voice dripped with sarcasm. Remus thought frantically that Sirius should have more sense than to taunt a man holding a wand at his throat. "Just because I didn't want to grow up to be a fucking Death Eater like—"

"Such language, cousin," said the person whose wand was pointing at Remus, and Bellatrix, too, revealed herself. "Where have your manners gone? Surely you haven't forgotten them all. Or maybe—" she smiled tantalizingly at Sirius, "You don't need them anymore, hanging around with scum like one."

"Easy, Bellatrix," Malfoy said, still looking at Sirius' livid face. "We would like this to be as pleasant as possible, wouldn't we?"

Sirius looked at Remus, and seemed to notice for the first time how pale and afraid his friend looked, and nodded. Remus felt ashamed of himself for being, well, not as brave as Sirius. Or, maybe, as stupid. Couldn't he see that, no matter what, the Death Eaters would _have_ to kill them? They needed a plan. Remus wasn't good with plans. He was good with schoolwork, not plans. Schemes were Sirius' thing.

"Good. Now, enlighten us, if you would, as to how you came to be here last night."

"Where's here?" Sirius replied, apparently trying a different tactic. "I've never seen this place before in my life. I'm not sure what you want with us, Malfoy, but—"

Bellatrix jerked her wand suddenly, and Remus fell forward onto the floor. She bent low over him and her breath tickled his ear as she purred softly, "This one looks so fragile, Lucius. One Cruciatus Curse and he might break. And we wouldn't want that, would we…" she pronounced the last word with special emphasis, "_cousin_?" He heard some of the Death Eaters snicker behind him.

"We followed Snape here," Sirius admitted, pained. "We saw him in Hogsmeade and decided to see what he was up to."

"You weren't instructed to trail him?"

"What? Who would want—" Sirius glanced at Remus again. "No."

"And when you got here, what did you see?"

"Nothing. We had just arrived when your lot blasted all those spells at us, and we ran away."

"He lies," someone, an unidentifiable someone, hissed. Malfoy glared at Sirius and raised his wand threateningly.

"You asked Snape questions!" Remus supplied, fearing for Sirius' safety suddenly much more than his own. "He cursed someone. You were impressed with him. You instructed him not to tell anyone about the meeting."

"So you _can_ speak, hmm?" Bellatrix murmured in his ear. "And then what? Did you tell anyone what you saw?"

Remus squirmed. James and Peter knew, but if he said that, they would go after them as well. "No one. Didn't tell anyone."

Bellatrix glanced upward at one of the other Death Eaters, who nodded. Of course Remus was telling the truth. Sirius had told James and Peter, not him. He glanced back up at Sirius, who looked, to the Death Eaters, disappointed at his friend's willingness to talk, but his eyes said, "_Thank you for stalling for time, I now have a very rash plan which I am going to put into action_." Remus braced himself, nervous, and yet somehow oddly excited. Sirius' crazy plans always seemed to work.

Malfoy nodded. His eyes flickered between Sirius and Remus. "Your…friend has some common sense. And you—" Sirius struggled against the ropes again, in vain, snarling. "Such spirit. You would have been an excellent addition to the Death Eaters. It will be a pity to kill you both."

"Well," Sirius said brightly, too brightly, "Hate to cause you pain, but you seem to have no other choice."

"Yes," Malfoy agreed. "Indeed." He raised his wand.

Sirius turned into a dog so quickly that no one could tell exactly what happened. Malfoy, startled, dropped his wand, breaking the connection which held Sirius against the wall. The ropes binding him were not meant to accommodate someone of canine proportions and slipped off easily. The surprised Death Eaters couldn't do anything more than follow him with their eyes as he bounded across the room, knocking Bellatrix over and transforming back to stand up and grab their wands. He pointed them both at the Death Eaters by Malfoy and shouted "_Obliviate_!"

One flash of white light, quickly followed by another, blinded Remus momentarily. He blinked, and felt an ease of pressure around his wrists and ankles; Sirius had magicked his bindings away. He stood up as Sirius tossed him his wand and—by some miracle—managed to catch it without dropping it.

"Alright there, Moony?" Sirius asked, between Stunning a Death Eater and wiping his memory. He was wearing this incredible, gorgeous smile on his face, as if he were high off of an adrenaline rush. Which he probably _was_.

Remus grinned despite himself, Obliviating Bellatrix, who was gaping unattractively up at Sirius. "Someday," he said, forgetting his fear, Stunning a Death Eater like it was the easiest thing in the world, "I am going to get _killed_, and it will be all your fault, and I will never forgive you."

"Not today, though," Sirius called from across the room, completely caught up in Stunning the Death Eaters. "Make sure you Obliviate them all too, or else they'll remember us."

Remus ducked to dodge a curse aimed at his head. Apparently some of the ones Sirius hadn't yet gotten to still had some fight left. He raised his wand and pointed, shooting Stunning spells everywhere, surprised at how nervous he _wasn't_, at how outnumbered they no longer were, at how unnaturally easy this all seemed to be.

The first thing he noticed was a slight shift in his senses, every color suddenly seeming a little more dull, every hint of a smell a little more potent, every sound a little louder. It was all too familiar to him. _No._ He looked at one of the long, tall windows. The sun had set, and moonlight was pouring into the room. He tried to call for Sirius, who was on the other side of the room, erasing the memories of the last two Death Eaters, but it came out as more of an alarmed yelp.

And then there was pain, bone-wrenching pain, as he doubled over, trying to control himself—_not now, no, please, not now_—in vain, as fur began appearing on the back of his hands, as he stared at them and his fingers curled into balled fists against his will, fists which blurred and blended into paws. He clawed at his face, which was lengthening, his skull was expanding, his skin felt like it would rip at any moment…his clothes did rip and fall away as his body changed from that of a boy that of a wolf, and then—

His own loud panting echoed his ears. A plethora of scents hit him, but one stood out. One which he hadn't smelled in awhile. _Humans. Flesh_. It was all around him. He lunged—

He was knocked backwards by something large, something black. He picked himself up, lunged again—the black dog seized him by the scruff of the neck. He shook it off, stood for a moment, collected himself, tried a third time—

The dog launched itself at him, and they crashed through a window. Glass flew, and he could now smell a trace of blood, his own, and the dog's, and he stood up and shook off, glass bits still stuck in his fur. The dog ran in front, mocking him, teasing him, carrying two sticks in its mouth. Something stirred in the wolf's mind. This should mean something, the dog should mean something, but it didn't. He ran after it, leapt for it, snarling.

It went like this for hours, the dog leading him all over the hills, and him in pursuit, wanting the meddlesome creature out of the way so he could hunt as he was meant to. The dog was at a disadvantage; carrying those weird sticks in his mouth, the other animal couldn't bite. Stupid, _he_ was the better suited animal. He caught up to it a couple of times and managed to strike until the dog twisted itself at an angle where it could kick him or claw him away.

They came upon some rickety old building—this should, too, be significant somehow, but it wasn't—the door was boarded up, but the dog flung itself at it once, twice, a loud crash and it broke and the animal bolted inside. He could smell its blood.

Nose to the ground, he followed the dog in, howling, certain of victory. It's wounded, he knows, and no match. He finds it upstairs, waiting for him, sticks discarded somewhere, whining in an almost pleading way. The werewolf registers this as fear. He slashes at it. It bites back. And from there it's all a mess of teeth and claws and bites and scratches and on and on and on—

Until he feels something change in the dynamics of the fight, and the dog isn't clawing or biting with nearly as much strength, and it tries to grab on with its mouth but it gets thrown across to the other side of the room, and hits the wall, and whimpers and falls to the floor. He growls at it and turns to get back outside.

And suddenly the smell of blood changed, and he looked back and there was a human boy lying where the dog used to be. He sniffs, approaches, and was about to bite it, rip into it, when he realized.

_Sirius_.

Early morning light is leaking into the Shack between the hastily constructed planks. Remus feels himself easing back into his own skin, the fur shedding, the sharpened teeth becoming dull again, his senses returning to normal rather painlessly, and he is dimly aware of the fact that he aches all over and he isn't wearing any clothing but that isn't important right now. What _was _important was that Sirius is lying on his side and bleeding and maybe not breathing, and that he, Remus, must have done that.

He crawled over to his friend, grabbed his wrist, felt for a pulse…oh, he'd never been good at feeling for pulses, even on himself…he'd never thought he'd need to know how—his heart was pounding so strongly in his ears that he wasn't sure he could concentrate on anything else. He jabbed his fingers into Sirius's wrist with a terrified energy—anything, please, anything...

"Moony," Sirius moaned. "You're hurting me."

And then Remus was kissing him, kissing him everywhere unblemished, his face, his neck, his hair, everywhere but his lips. And he just kept kissing him and kissing him and he really had no idea what he was doing but he was kissing him and Sirius was _alive_ and he was just so _relieved_ and he couldn't stop it, not if his own life depended on it, until he felt Sirius' hand on his shoulder and he realized that they were still lying on the floor of the Shrieking Shack and Sirius was still bleeding and Remus was so, so naked.

He curled his knees to his chest and didn't really understand what he'd just done and why he'd done it, he only knew that he could not look at Sirius for fear of what he'd see in the other boy's face. He closes his eyes and turns his head away, double protection, tense, until he feels a finger guide his face back to meet Sirius' lips.

Kissing is not at all like how it is described in books, but that's in the best possible way. Remus always thought, from reading, and from accidentally observing couples in the hallway, that the logistics always seemed sort of, well, gross. Wet. Unsanitary. This didn't feel like that at all. It was simple, soft, experimental – a brush of lips, a swipe of tongue, and then Sirius had pulled away again and he was smiling.

"Well," he said softly. His grey, grey eyes were shining.

Remus couldn't think of anything to say, so he said, "Er. I—I mean, you? I mean, I should go find some clothes."

The Marauders agreed to keep clothes for Remus in a chest of drawers on the first floor. He found it and rummaged through, his hands shaking. The drawer below it had bandages and various first aid equipment, which he grabbed. Once he had dressed, he returned upstairs to find Sirius sitting up against the wall, looking at down at himself, at all of the blood. Some of the scratches were on his arms, but the largest by far was a gash that cut straight across his abdomen. Remus was relieved to see that it looked somewhat shallow. He kneeled down and gave Sirius the bandages, then, seeing how his friend's hands were bloodless and pale, decided to do it mostly himself.

"You should have just let me bite them," he said. "I mean, I assume that you were trying to get me away from them, but I can't remember a thing. You should have just let me do it."

"I couldn't do that," Sirius replied. "Can you imagine? All of the Death Eater Werewolves running around? Merlin's beard, _nowhere _would be safe." He laughed, but Remus didn't. He knew that they were incredibly lucky, extremely lucky to have escaped in the first place, lucky also that Remus didn't bite someone in the process.

"The scratches," Remus said. "They should heal fine, once we take you to Madam Pomfrey. You probably—you probably won't even have a scar."

Sirius traced one of the scars on Remus' face gently with his thumb. "But then we wouldn't match," he murmured softly.

Remus didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so he just did both, burying his head in Sirius' shoulder, and apologizing over and over and over, even though he didn't know what for. "It's alright," Sirius said, and he kissed Remus on his forehead, his eyes, the bridge of his nose, his cheek, until he finally found Remus' lips again, and Remus could taste his own tears.

That kiss was longer, deeper, and neither of them really wanted it to end, but Remus finally had to pull away to breathe. "I—I couldn't just _tell_ you," he stammered. "Because there were so many times I wanted to, but I was afraid of scaring you away."

"Moony, why was _I _usually the one to find you in the library? Why was I treating you like glass? Why was I acting so crazy? I, er, I wasn't sure how to get the point across."

"So nearly lopping my head off with a pair of cutting shears was your way of showing affection?" Remus asked. "I suggest just telling me next time. It would be easier for both parties."

Sirius grinned. It was infectious, and Remus caught himself smiling too. "Yeah, well, you weren't really being straightforward yourself." He laughed. They both did.

"Well, as lovely as this has been, we should get you up to the castle before you bleed to death," Remus observed. "I don't think that either of us would like that very much."

Sirius shook his head as Remus helped him up. His hand groped for something on the floor, and Remus realized that Sirius had gone to the trouble of saving their wands. After handing Remus his, he staggered, a little faint from blood loss, and Remus realized just how much he was supporting him. Sirius kissed his ear. "Hey, Remus?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we telling James and Peter?"

Remus paused and thought about this for a second. "I think…no, not yet. I'm not sure how they'd handle it."

He felt Sirius nod against his shoulder. The other boy staggered again, grabbing Remus' shirt. Remus held on to him tightly, concerned. "I'll be fine," Padfoot said. "Just watch."

Remus never told Sirius just how much of the way he had to carry him back. He could have carried him further. He could have carried him _forever_.

_Love_, he thought, _is one of the stupidest, craziest things anyone has ever invented_.

_And thank Merlin for that._


	5. Chocolate

_A/N: Special update day - Labor Day. I think I'm probably going to update mostly on Thursdays or Fridays or on the weekend. Now that school started (last week) chapters will probably be a little slower in coming. In the meantime, just a nice, warm and fuzzy chapter. Thanks to LadyAnalyn for reviewing every chapter I've written. :) Don't be shy - drop a note. It let's me know you're reading._

_Oh yes, and I need a disclaimer: If it's here and not on fictionpress, then why are you asking?_

_Mischeif managed? You be the judge._

* * *

**5: Chocolate**

It had been a full month since he'd left Hogwarts, and Remus feels farther from finding Sirius than ever before.

He has taken the day off of work because the previous night had been the full moon and he is, as usual, feeling under the weather. He decides to fix himself a nice cup of chocolate (always, always helps him feel better) and to study all of the newspaper clippings he had lain out on the table. Sirius has purportedly been sighted nineteen different times, with no two places overlapping, in the past month alone, but every time Remus went to look, to question, to chase the lead, he is not there. He is never there. The dog days of summer are _not_ living up to their name.

He sighs and sips his chocolate. Well, he has a roof over his head, he is gainfully employed, both of which he considers himself lucky to be, even if it was all on Dumbledore's arrangement. How long can this last? It is only a matter of time, he knows, before something happens and someone discovers the nature of his condition, and he will have to move on again. He takes another sip, and is startled out of his thoughts by what sounds like something large being thrown at the door.

He stands up, wand in hand, ready to defend himself if need be, and makes his way carefully across the room. The noise comes again, a humongous bang, and the door shakes in its frame at impact. He braces himself and flings it open.

He gets a glimpse of a thin black dog before it stands up and becomes a man, who stumbles across the threshold into Remus' flat. "Nice place," says Sirius, who then promptly faints.

Remus cannot _believe_ this. The only thing that reassures him that Sirius is actually here is when he picks him up and feels the weight in his arms. It isn't much, Sirius seems to have gotten even thinner since their last encounter, but it's _there_. _He's_ there. He sets Sirius down on the couch and wets a washcloth in the sink, then wipes it over Sirius' face until he comes around.

"Here," says Remus. "Drink this." He pushes the mug of chocolate forward.

Sirius peers into the cup and grins. "Ah, chocolate. Still the solution for everything?" Remus nods, smiling, but it's a concerned smile. Sirius tilts the mug back and swallows the drink down in two gulps. "Wow. I haven't had had chocolate in thirteen years. I'd forgotten what it tastes like." He looks sad, pensive, and then he turns to Remus again. "Do you know what I could really use right now?"

"Something to eat," Remus says. "And a bath. _Badly_."

Sirius laughed. "You're like my mother. No, you're _better_ than my mother. Much better."

"You'll get one," Remus presses, "once you take the other."

"Oh, all right. Help me up."

Remus pulls Sirius to his feet, and he stumbles forward into Remus' arms. "I missed you," he says into Remus' hair. "I missed you so, so much, that you don't even understand, I can't explain…"

"I know," Remus assures him. "I know."

"Oh Merlin," Sirius moans as Remus guides him towards the bathroom. "I thought I was never going to get out of there. And every day I was losing more of myself…you were the first thing to go, Remus, you…and James, and all of the Marauder days, and I saw everyone else around me going insane, wasting away. I'm still not sure how I managed to stay _as_ intact, _as_ whole as I…as I did."

"Well, you're alright now," Remus tells him, filling the bath with warm water. "You're here and I'm with you and you can have all the chocolate you want until you're back to normal. Or as normal as you've ever been. I'm going to go make you something. I trust you not to drown yourself."

"No promises," says Sirius. "Thanks."

Remus closes the door and heads to the kitchen, taking a plate from the shelf. In truth, he's not entirely sure what to do with himself, or with Sirius, now that Sirius is back. He _is_ relieved, of course, and overjoyed, but it's just…very hard to put in words…unreal seeing your childhood friend and lover after a twelve-year imprisonment. He doesn't know how he should act now. He didn't expect Sirius to show up on his doorstep one day. He thought _he'd _be the one doing the finding. _So now what_? What do they do? Where do you even begin from here?

He carries the plate into the bathroom. Sitting in the tub is Sirius, who has apparently happily rediscovered the proper use of a bar of soap. The water is already murky and he can't see anything past Sirius' waist. Looking down, he thinks he can count every single one of Sirius' ribs. _Merlin_, the man is thin. Upon hearing the door open, Sirius looks up.

"What's that?" Sirius asks.

"I did you a favor," Remus replies. "I made you a sandwich. Chicken."

"You're far too good to me," Sirius says, taking the plate and devouring the sandwich so quickly that Remus is amazed he doesn't choke. "That was delicious. Um, what are you doing with those scissors?"

"Sit sideways," Remus instructs. "This should keep people from recognizing you, at least at first glance." He gathers Sirius' now very wet elbow-length hair in his left hand.

"Oh, no. You're not going to—" _Snip_. About a foot and a half of raven hair falls to the floor. "_Moony!_"

"It looks like it did when we were in school," Remus muses, tidying up Sirius' hair with a comb and trimming the uneven edges. "It's a good length for you."

"Only you would _ever_ think of doing this to me," Sirius says. He reaches back, takes the hand with the comb, pulls it around, and kisses it. Remus tenses at the contact. He's forgotten what it feels like to have someone reach out to him, to touch him.

"I brought you some clothes, too," he says quickly. "They're mine, so they'll probably be big on you…that seems so odd. But there's a belt for you, so you should be able to wear them without any trouble. And I don't expect you to leave this room until your face is shaven and you've brushed your teeth."

"Yes, mother," Sirius replies, but in good humor. Remus is surprised that his old friend can still attempt a joke after Azkaban. He closes the door behind him, sighs, and goes to make some more chocolate. He has a feeling he'll need it.

When Sirius emerges from the bathroom three quarters of an hour later, he looks like a different man. His face still has that gaunt, sunken look, but it is clean-shaven, and his hair looks soft and shiny, rather decently cut, Remus thinks, just above his shoulders. The clothes are, as predicted, big on him, but with the shirt only half-tucked around the waist he could have just been dressing ultra-casually, as he always tended to do. His eyes still hold that haunted look, but Remus fancies that they're a little brighter that before, if just a little. And he's smiling, which makes all of the difference in the world.

Remus is sitting at the table with a mug of chocolate, and there's another one set in front of the chair next to him. Sirius sits down in it. "I think we should burn my Azkaban rags," he remarks. "I know how clean you try to keep everything, and I'm not so keen on keeping them." He picks up his chocolate and sips it. "On second thought, it might be more trouble than it's worth. I may need them again someday."

Remus nods halfheartedly, staring straight ahead, the hand holding his mug poised precariously halfway between his mouth and the table. Sirius notices. He takes Remus' other hand in his own, stroking the side of it with his thumb, back and forth. "What's wrong?" he asks softly.

Remus stares at the cup, which is trembling. "It's just—" He swallows. "This is so _bizarre_, Sirius. You being here. Only a little while earlier I was worrying about you, and then you showed up and you're alright and…and that's great. That's wonderful." He takes a breath. "But it isn't as if twelve years _haven't_ passed, and we can just go on being…the way we were. It's different. It's so, so _fucking _different." Sirius looks at him, surprised. "Yes," he says. "Yes, I did just curse."

"Wow," says Sirius, his gray eyes full of concern. "Things _are_ different now."

Remus nods.

"But you know what else?" Sirius asks. "Different isn't always bad. And I'm sure that with a little work, we can be just like we always were. Better, even. Look, Moony…" He looks at their hands, touching, on the table. "I love you. That hasn't changed. I'm sure we can make this work out. It'll just take some getting used to, that's all."

He leans forward and kisses Remus on the lips, very softly, very gently. He tastes, not like prison, but like chocolate. Remus looks at their hands, and then he squeezes Sirius' and says, "I love you too."

Sirius smiles.

* * *

"Sirius, you need to _stop_," Remus moaned. 

The first few weeks had been great. No one noticed that anything was too different, except that Remus didn't suffer from sudden insecurity attacks anymore and Sirius' behavior became somewhat less erratic and he stopped flirting with every girl he saw. Remus noticed, of course, that he and Sirius seemed to find every accidental excuse to touch. Sirius' leg would brush his under a table and then stay put, or he would pass Remus a quill and their fingers would linger just a little too long. Sometimes, he would catch Sirius' hand with his own, and sometimes he would be looking out the window and Sirius would come up behind him and surreptitiously wrap his arms around Remus' waist. However, there came a point in time where brief, accidental touches weren't enough for either of them.

And so they enlisted the help of the Marauder's Map.

It wasn't right, Remus had protested, using the Map this way, selfishly, just for the two of them. Sirius then reminded him that the Map was a tool, to be used when they were up to no good, and this was definitely no good. "I solemnly swear," he added cheerfully, and Remus hit himself in the forehead.

They used the Map to scout out places where they could be alone. Every corridor, every room, every secret passageway that could be found in Hogwarts was labeled on the Map. Besides that, the Map would warn them if someone was coming, and they could straighten themselves up and pretend to be doing something innocent that definitely wasn't kissing or touching or whatever else they happened to be doing.

Which was how Remus and Sirius ended up in the supply closet to the Potions' dungeon. One of Remus' hands was tangled in Sirius' hair, the other was holding the Map in front of his face so that he could see who, if anyone, was coming. Sirius was unbuttoning Moony's shirt, trailing kisses down his chest.

"_Sirius_," he said again. "I think we should—"

"Moony, we're in a closet," Sirius, who had stopped momentarily, pointed out. "Any old person walking down the hallway is not going to notice us. You cast the silencing charms, right?" Remus nodded. "Good. Then they'll have no way of knowing."

"No, Sirius, it's not just someone coming, it's—" But Sirius kissed him, fervently, hungrily, swallowing his protests, with such force that they fell against the wall, and it was all that Remus could do to kiss back. Sweet Merlin, his hands were _everywhere_. Remus wished he didn't have the Map so he could hold on to Sirius, just—

But the door to the closet opened suddenly, and light spilled in. Sirius jumped, startled, and hit his head on a shelf. "Ah," he hissed. "Fuck, who is—"

And he looked straight up into the very surprised, very green eyes of Lily Evans.

For a second, no one moved. Then Sirius pulled Remus close to him and says, "I can understand the temptation to jump the line, Lily dear, but it's Remus' turn right now. You're going to have to wait."

Remus, while appreciative of Sirius' valiant efforts to turn this into a joke, could only say, "Er, Lily."

"Remus," Lily said, as if her tongue weren't working quite properly either. "Sirius." She looked from one to the other, noting the state of Sirius' hair and Remus' clothes, took a deep breath, and asked, very calmly given the circumstances, "The world is ending, isn't it?"

"That already happened," Sirius pointed out. "You're going out with James. We can't do much worse than that."

Lily flushed. Realizing that she wasn't going to get anything serious out of Sirius, she turned to Remus, whom she'd always respected a bit, even in the days when she'd loathed the other Marauders. "How long?" she asked him.

"About a month," Remus replied, surprised that his mouth was managing to function. "Give or take. What are you doing here?"

"Severus snapped. He finally got fed up with James," Lily explained, looking relieved to be talking about something else, "And he chucked his Potions' book at him. Slughorn confiscated it, and I volunteered to get him a new one."

"You have a good heart," Sirius remarked with mock solemnity. Lily shot him a look.

"I'd _thought_ maybe something like this was going on," she mused. "You were both a little too happy and touchy-feely for your own good. I know you think no one notices," she said, noting Remus' surprise. "Trust me, I know exactly how that is. But I knew that something was up when, as Head Girl, I had to console some of the members of _his_," she jerked her head, indicating Sirius, "little fan club who ran crying to me, saying that he didn't like them anymore."

"I never," Sirius interjected, "really liked them in the first place. They like me, though. A lot." Remus elbowed him.

"…But then," continued Lily, "I thought that that couldn't _possibly_ be it, because Remus never seemed to show an interest in anyone, and Sirius Black had gone out with sixteen girls in the past four months."

"Well, I needed _something_ to take my mind off of the fact that 'Remus didn't seem to show an interest in anyone,' didn't I?"

"Most people," Lily told him, "take up some kind of normal hobby. Like golf. Not serial dating."

"What's golf?" Sirius asked.

"A Muggle game," Remus explained, eager to get off the subject of Sirius' fangirls. "Seems kind of boring to me, though. What you do is—"

"'Scuze me," Lily said, reaching above their heads to get a book from the top shelf. "I should be getting back to Potions. And you two…" She looked at them. Sirius was still pressing Remus to him, as if to say, "_Whatever you're about to tell me right now, I am_ not_ letting him go_." "…were never in Potions in the first place. I guess I should technically take points, but this is just too sweet."

"You're a doll, Evans," Sirius mutters.

Ignoring Sirius, she said to Remus, "You're lucky. Half of the girls in Hogwarts would _love_ to be in your position right now."

"Half of the girls in Hogwarts," Remus remarked matter-of-factly, "have." Sirius moved hand down and pinched Remus, who yelped.

Lily rolled her eyes and shook her head, amused. "Oh, you two." She laughed, albeit awkwardly, made to close the door on them again.

"Lily, wait!" Lily froze and looked at Sirius, surprised, thinking the same thing Remus was, which was that, of course, they'd all like to get out of this situation as soon as possible. "Er…" Sirius said. "Don't tell James, alright?"

Lily nodded and gently shut the door, leaving them in near darkness once again. Both boys instantly relaxed, Sirius loosening his grip just a little. "Last time I don't listen to you," Sirius said to Remus.

"No it isn't," Remus replied knowingly.

"Oh, well, maybe you're right," Sirius conceded. "But check the Map for me, will you? Is Lily gone? Is there anyone in the corridor of the floor above us?"

Remus squinted. "Lily's back in Potions, and no. Filch is on the third floor and Peeves is somewhere around the Astronomy Tower, Dumbledore's in his office pacing, and all of the teachers are in their classrooms. Why…?"

"Because," Sirius said informatively. He grabbed Remus' wrist and pulled him out of the closet, then up the gloomy stone steps to the much more bright and cheerful first floor corridor. There were decorations everywhere, but they seemed more irritating than festive, especially given the holiday. Remus had never really been fond of this particular day, but he thought, as Sirius led him with purpose, that that might change now. Sirius pulled Remus to the window. It was flurrying outside, a fresh coat of white on a blanket of snow which had fallen the previous week.

"You know what today is, right?" Sirius asked.

"Um," Remus looked around him. Of course he did. There were hearts _everywhere_. It was hard to ignore. "Yes, yes I do. It's Valentine's Day. But I don't expect you to have—"

"Here," Sirius said abruptly, reaching into the pocket of his robes and pulling out a little heart-shaped box. "I got you something."

Remus glanced at Sirius, his copper-colored eyes shining. "You didn't have to."

"Well, I did. Open it!"

Remus lifted the lid off the box. Inside were several small chocolates, some dark, some lighter, milk, in little squares. All looked absolutely delicious, too good to eat. He put the lid back on. "Oh, no. I can't accept these, Sirius, they're too nice and…I didn't get you anything…"

"You don't need to," Sirius said.

"Sirius—"

"Has anyone ever told you," Sirius murmured, drawing closer, "that you're absolutely gorgeous when you blush?"

And then Remus kissed Sirius again, and he knew that Sirius was right—the perfect Valentine's Day present didn't need to be bought at all.


	6. Home

_A/N: Here we are again! Chapter six. Thanks to LadyAnalyn, as always, for reviewing, and MoonyIsTheMan, for going through and taking the time to review every chapter I've posted so far. Reviews make me feel loved, or at least let me know that people are reading. :)_

_And, as always, thanks to my phenomenal beta, Remy, and to my sister. Mischief managed._

* * *

**6:** **Home**

A bit more than a month in, things aren't exactly what one would call normal, but they are much, much better.

Remus quickly gets used to having Sirius back. After the first few days, he is no longer surprised that Sirius is beside him when he wakes up. He grows accustomed to seeing how thin Sirius has become, and does his best to remedy that, and he can see, day by day, that it is working. He tolerates—though isn't happy about—Sirius sneaking off every day, as a dog, to visit Buckbeak, who is hidden in a cave a couple of miles away. He learns also that he can only be seen in public with Sirius when Sirius is transformed. He also learns that women really like men with dogs.

"I swear," Sirius says one day after returning from a walk, "You are going to have every single woman in a twelve-block radius chasing after you if we go on this way. Of course, it's mostly because of me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," says Remus, who doesn't.

"You always were kind of clueless about that sort of thing. They're all noticing your well-bred, well-behaved, and very handsome dog," Sirius explains. "And then they notice the well-bred, well-behaved, and very handsome man behind the dog. See, the theory is that it takes a sensitive, caring, responsible person to raise a dog like me, and women like that in a man. Like ol' wassername, the pretty one we keep running into on that corner. That's no accident, Moony."

"You mean Jessica Jenkins?" Remus asks. "Well, she seems very nice, Sirius, but I can't imagine why you think she's interested in me."

"She asked if you wanted to get together for coffee sometime! If I didn't know that you were so completely clueless about it, I'd be jealous."

"Maybe she just likes coffee," Remus says jokingly, and Sirius gives up.

"Alright. Fine. You have no idea. Now will you _please_ get this collar off of me? It itches." Sirius fumbles with the collar, comically large around his human neck, still hooked to the leash which Remus is holding.

Sirius jerks the leash suddenly, pulling Remus towards him, and then kisses him before he has the chance to say anything at all. Remus somehow—he isn't sure how, really, with the distraction—finds the collar with his free hand and unhooks it. Sirius grins. "I like it when we do that. It never gets old."

Remus smiles back. In truth, this is another thing to get used to. After Sirius' arrest, Peter's purported death, and James and Lily's actual deaths, he had refused to let himself get close to anyone, believing himself to be cursed, bad luck. He was depressed, alone, for the longest time, before he decided to pick himself up and get his life back together again. And no one else, _no one_, had ever known him like Sirius had. Which is why it has been so hard to let Sirius back in after his absence, why, for the first couple of weeks, he tended to jump whenever Sirius so much as hugged him. But he's getting used to it.

Two months of sleeping in the same bed have passed before they make love again for what seems like the first time. Remus isn't even sure that he remembers _how_, at first, to touch someone like that, but the feel of Sirius' skin on his after all of this time helps him remember _why_ and the logistics don't seem to matter so much anymore. They're a little clumsy, a little awkward, a little perfect. And afterwards, they lie in together in silence, listening to their almost synchronized breathing, and suddenly Sirius is crying and then he is crying and they cling to each other like children, and Sirius promises never to leave, never to do that again…and it scares Remus, a little, just how vulnerable they both are, Sirius especially, who seems so thin and so weak next to him.

"I missed you," Remus whispers as they kiss the tears away, and the words mean much more than they ever did before. "I missed you."

And Sirius nods into his shoulder and traces a scar on Remus' arm with his fingers and says, "It's good to be home."

Remus knows exactly what he means.

* * *

"It feels like we're leaving home," Remus said. "Doesn't it?" 

He was busy folding the last of his socks and setting them on top of all of the neatly packed clothing in his suitcase. Shirts, scarves, trousers…he imagined his textbooks sitting at the bottom, stacked, among the forgotten debris which had inevitably built up after seven years of use. Dropping the last pair of socks in, he closed the trunk and secured it with a click.

He can feel Sirius—his breath on Remus' neck, his arms suddenly wrapping around his waist—before he sees him. James was off somewhere with Lily, and Peter was running around trying to find all of the items he'd misplaced during his entire Hogwarts career, so they had the room to themselves. Sirius kissed him on the cheek. "But now," he pointed out, "you'll be living with me."

Remus leaned his head on Sirius' shoulder. They had agreed on the living arrangements beforehand. "I'll still miss this place, though." He turns to look Sirius in the eye. "I'm thinking of coming back here some day, you know."

Sirius looked surprised. "Now Moony, I know you like school, but really, isn't that a little extreme?"

"Not as a student!" Remus exclaimed. "As a teacher. I could teach…Arithmancy. Or History of Magic, Binns has been here for _centuries_, I'm sure they could use someone new. Not Divination, though. Ugh."

"What about Defense?" Sirius suggested, nuzzling Remus' neck.

"Against the Dark Arts, you mean? Sirius, you know no one has _ever_ lasted more than a year in that job. I mean, first year, the teacher was really into a hands-on learning experience, and he brought one of his classes too far into the Forbidden Forest…of course, that didn't end well. Second year teacher got a little carried away with his jinxes...third year—"

"Third year was our fault, actually," Sirius chimed in.

"Right. Well, you can see where this is going," Remus sighed. "I'm sure _you'd_ find it entertaining, but I like my head right where it is. On my shoulders. Besides, by the time I'm teaching you and James will probably be off gallivanting around the world doing all of the rash and dangerous things that will make it a much better place. You'll already have enough excitement in your life, you don't have to put it on me. Let me teach something nice and tame."

"Alright, boring old Professor Lupin," Sirius said, kissing him, "I need your help with something very mundane, you should like that."

"What?"

"I can't close my trunk."

Remus looks over his shoulder. Sirius' trunk is in an unbearable state of disarray; it looks as if he has just decided to dump everything in there without any kind of order or system or attempt at folding. "Leave it to me," he says, prying Sirius' hands off from around his waist.

Sirius lay down on his bed, legs crossed, hands behind his head, as he watched Moony take out his clothes, fold them, and replace them in the trunk. "I don't deserve you," he said.

"No," Remus agreed. "No. You really don't."

The door opened with a bang, then, to admit Peter Pettigrew, looking very pale and very scared. "The Map!" he squealed, sounding very much like a terrified rodent. "The Map!"

"The Map?" Sirius echoed. "The Marauders' Map? What about the Map?"

"The Map!" Peter repeated. "I was using it, see, to help me find my way through some of the secret passages, figured I'd left stuff in there, after all, and then Filch saw me and he asked what I was doing and—oh, I'm so _sorry_!"

"What happened to the Map?" Remus asked kindly, calmly, trying to imply that whatever it was wasn't his fault.

"Well, I closed it up, naturally, and Filch told me to—to show him what it—what it was, and then I used a standard revealing spell, only somehow the Map knew it was Filch who wanted to see it, not me, and it called him all of these horrible, horrible things, and then—and then…" Peter finished off in a very small voice. "He confiscated it."

"He did _what now_?!" Sirius sat up so quickly that Remus was sure he'd snapped something. His eyes were practically popping out of his head. "Peter, that Map took years of work, and you just let him _take it away_?!"

Peter hung his head. He looked like he was about to cry. "I'm sorry," he squeaked. "I'm really really really sorry."

"It wasn't your fault," Remus assured him, shooting a glare at Sirius for his insensitivity. He was muttering "years of hard work" under his breath. "That Map has a mind of its own sometimes, it's alright."

"Oh, I know, but…Remus, that was _the Map_!"

"We don't need it anymore," Remus pointed out, thinking practically. "It'll be in a drawer in Filch's office, and whoever uses it next will have to…filch it from Filch, as it were. Don't you think that whoever can do that is worthy of being the next owner? It's…" Remus fumbled for words. "It's the Marauder way, I guess. I'm not too thrilled about it, but that's the way it is."

He looked at Sirius, who nodded slowly, deliberately. "Er, I guess Moony's right, Peter. It _is_ our way."

Peter brightened a little, and he wiped his eyes with his sleeve, trying to pretend that they hadn't been wet a second ago. "Yeah, it is, isn't it?" He looked as thoughtful as he possibly could. "Wonder who'll get it next?"

"We may never know," Sirius intoned.

The door creaked open again, much more slowly this time, to reveal the face of James Potter. A goofy smile was plastered on his face, one with which Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, and Padfoot were all too familiar. The messed up hair, the bright eyes, the stupid, stupid smile—they called it his "Lily Look." Sure enough, the aforementioned redhead could be glimpsed over James' shoulder; she was holding his hand. She, also, wore an incredibly silly, love struck expression, but all in all she was a bit more together than James. Remus wondered whether he'd ever looked that way around Sirius and certainly hoped not, although he secretly wouldn't have been surprised at all.

"Is she even allowed up here?" Peter asked, more to himself than anyone else, although everyone heard him quite clearly.

"Oi!" James said loudly, unnecessarily, as he and Lily already had everyone's attention. "Lily and I have something to tell you."

"Is she pregnant?" Sirius asked immediately. Remus hadn't ever really thought about James and Lily even _going _that far, although they might have, possibly, _very_ possibly, but he didn't really want to know.

Lily flushed and said, "Sirius!" at the same time James exclaimed, "No, are you mental?"

"Just wondering…" Sirius backed off a little.

"Are you…engaged?" Remus tried.

Lily giggled. Merlin, Lily Evans _giggled_. The world was ending. James smiled at her. Remus hypocritically thought that those two could be sickening sometimes. "No," Lily replied. "But you're getting closer."

Peter screwed up his face, trying to think. "You just saved a bunch of money on broomstick insurance by—"

"NO!" everyone else yelled in unison.

Getting the sense that no one was in a guessing mood anymore, James said, "Lily and I"—he paused for dramatic effect—"have decided to move in together.

"Oh," Sirius said, a bit let down. "Why couldn't you have just said that, then? Moony and I are living together, and we don't go around making a big guessing game out of it."

"But that's _different_," James explained. "That's a roommate, rent-splitting thing. This…" He glanced at Lily. "This is a romantic thing."

Lily nodded, and her lips were smiling, but her expressive green eyes looked at Sirius and Remus accusatorily. Remus felt awful. They should have told James and Peter by now, they _should_ have, but they couldn't find the right words, or the right time. James always had his head in the clouds now, because of Lily, and Peter was always, well, Peter. And besides, how do you break it to someone that his two very best, very male friends were involved in a way that most very male friends weren't?

"You're a lucky woman," Remus said to Lily.

"So are you," Lily replied mischievously, and Remus wondered what in Merlin's name James had done to her to make her so giddy. This girl, who always had such a head on her shoulders, had completely, completely lost it. _It's a drug_, Remus decided. _Love is a drug_.

"We should get down to the Great Hall," Sirius rushed. "The feast will have probably already started, er, right, James?"

"Right you are, Padfoot old buddy." James clapped Sirius on the shoulder. He was chipper. _Too_ chipper. He turned to Lily. "Would you do me a favor and close your eyes for a moment, love? Yes, just like that. Now, keep them closed…"

He motioned for Remus to come over, and handed him something soft and light. His Invisibility Cloak. James whispered, "Put this over her and then get under it. Follow behind me. Make sure she keeps her eyes closed, alright?"

Remus nodded and did as he was told. He threw the Invisibility Cloak over himself and Lily, who gasped when she felt it settle over her. She had never used the Cloak before. "What was that?"

"James' Invisibility Cloak," Remus explained. "No, don't open your eyes, I'll guide you. See, now we're leaving the room…careful, we have to go down the stairs…"

"If we both don't break our necks," Lily whispered, "this really could turn out to be something romantic."

Not breaking their necks proved to be a tall order. They took the stairs very, very slowly, nearly knocked over poor Frank Longbottom in the common room, and actually tripped and fell over coming out of the portrait hole. Remus kept hearing Lily mutter "I'm going to _kill_ him," but he thought that despite herself she was actually enjoying being kept in suspense like this. He couldn't tell what the big surprise was, though. So far it seemed that they were just heading for the Great Hall with the rest of the students.

James suddenly took a sharp right, separating himself from the flow, and Remus followed him to a large and rather unflattering portrait of Helga Hufflepuff. James tipped the portrait to the side, but there was nothing there. He furrowed his brow, and then his face lit up. He tapped the portrait with his wand and muttered something too soft for Remus to hear, then tilted the portrait to the side again, revealing a tunnel behind it. Remus remembered this tunnel, actually, he was pretty sure that he was the one to discover it, accidentally, but for the life of him he couldn't remember where it led.

It was all he could do to follow the light of James' wand down the tunnel without killing himself or James' LilyLove. The floor was rocky and uneven and at times very slick. He stepped in a puddle without realizing he had done so until he noticed that his socks had become very, very damp. There was a scurrying off to the side—tiny claws scraping against the rock—to indicate that they weren't the only living things here. _Rats_, Remus thought. _There are rats in here_. He could almost smell them.

And then they were outside, by the lake, and he saw James transform in front of him into a large, handsome stag. He felt something crawl over his sopping shoe and heard a surprised squeak. Remus realized that it must have been Peter, who, apparently, was in on this as well. "Keep your eyes closed!" he told Lily, who felt grass under her feet and had tried to peek. He didn't know _what_ she would think if she saw what they were following.

James and Peter led them around to the other side of the lake, a nice, isolated clearing bordered by tall yet very unthreatening evergreen trees which marked the beginning of the Forbidden Forest. The night was cool and cloudless, and stars sparkled above their heads, each one pure, perfect. They reflected off of the surface of the lake, making it seem to glow, gentle waves catching the light, losing it, catching it again. James and Peter apparently deemed it safe to change back, and Moony saw their silhouettes transform: a stag lost its antlers and stood up on its hind legs, a rat grew bigger and bigger, its tail shrinking away, until it was Peter again. A large black dog with a picnic basket in its mouth trotted around them, set the basket down on the ground, and became Sirius.

"Okay," James called. "Take it off, you can open your eyes!"

Lily's eyes flew open and she gasped, apparently at the perfection of it all—the stars, the lake, the little picnic basket—and ran and threw her arms around James' neck. "It's wonderful," she said into his shoulder. James kissed her full on the mouth.

"We helped!" Peter chimed.

"I didn't," Remus admitted. "I didn't know anything. Where—where'd you get the basket, Sirius?"

"The kitchens," Sirius said. "The House Elves are regular angels. Well, go on, everyone, sit down!" He grinned and slung his arm casually over Remus' shoulder. "Great surprise, huh?"

Remus could only nod.

The five sat in a circle, James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, and Peter. The first thing out of the basket is a bottle of Muggle champagne (where Sirius got that from they would never know) and five glasses. Sirius fills these and passes them around as Lily unpacks fruit, bread, cheese, various sweets of all sorts, utensils, and plates. Her eyes shine almost as brightly as the stars.

"I propose a toast!" Sirius announced, raising his glass. "To the Marauders—"

"And Lily!" James interrupted.

"Er, yes. And Lily," Sirius corrected. "To the Marauders…and Lily, magical mischief-makers, new graduates of Hogwarts school. To years past, and years to come. To us, Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs…Lily too, friends through thick and thin, until death do us part, and probably after. To friends!"

"Friends," James and Lily said in unison, and they smiled at each other.

"Friends!" Peter said enthusiastically, and it's obvious that he's happy just to have them.

"Friends," Remus echoed, and the word felt marvelous on his tongue.

Their glasses met in the middle with a clink, and they drank to friendship.

"Mmm," Sirius said, swallowing the champagne. Remus had never liked the fizz, but it didn't seem to bother Sirius at all. "That was lovely. Now who wants a dip in the lake?"

"Who wants to get eaten by the Giant Squid, more like," James muttered. "Have you lost your mind, or what?"

"Nonsense," Sirius pressed. "The Squid and I are great friends. I've taken to calling him Steve."

"He _has_ gone crazy," Peter said. His eyes were very wide. "What do we do?"

"I know," said James. "Give him what he deserves. Toss him in. Guys, give me a hand, will you? Um, Lily, you shouldn't—"

"Throwing Sirius in the lake," Lily told him, "will be the highlight of my entire school career."

"Right then. Okay, everyone got him? Alright, get to that spot over there, the water's deeper and we don't want to kill him. When did you get so heavy, Padfoot? Alright, on the count of three, one, two—"

And with that, they threw Sirius in. He disappeared with a splash, and Remus had to admit that the feeling was oddly satisfying, although when Sirius didn't surface for a few seconds he worried—irrationally—that Sirius had hit his head on a rock and was drowning. It wasn't so. He surfaced about a moment later, dog paddling.

"The water's great!" he called, swimming right up to the shore. "Care to join? No? Fine then, I'm getting out. Moony, if you'd be so kind…"

Remus knew what was going to happen before it did, even as he stretched out his hand to help Sirius up, even as Sirius took that hand, grinned at him in a way that only Sirius could, and yanked, hard. He went flying forward and ended up immersed with a mouthful of lake water. He coughed. Sirius pulled him up.

"Sorry," he said. "You okay?"

"I hate you," Remus replied, and he splashed Sirius in the face. Sirius grinned again and tackled him. They fell into the water, a tangle of arms and hair and soaked clothing, both warm and cold at the same time. Underwater, Sirius kissed him, briefly, and then they both needed to breathe and came up and splashed at each other again.

"Oi! You two!" James called from the bank. "Quit it, you're getting us wet!"

"You don't know the meaning of wet," Sirius said, and he grabbed James where he could—around the ankles—and pulled him in. Lily laughed at the idiocy of the boys before being dragged in herself. Peter was the only one who came in of his own free will, and he cannonballed in, rocking the lake. An enormous splash war ensued until the party emerged half an hour later, dripping, soaking, smiling, simply happy to be in each other's company.

Later, once all of the food had been eaten and the drinks drunken, the friends were stargazing. Or rather, Sirius and Remus were stargazing. Peter had overdosed on sweets and was completely conked out by the picnic basket, snoring as he slept and drooling rather unattractively. James and Lily had snuck away Merlin-knows where to do Merlin-knows-what, and Remus and Sirius had decided that they were perfectly fine not knowing.

"You see that group there?" Remus was saying, pointing out a constellation. "That's the Andromeda constellation. And in there's the Andromeda galaxy, that's the closest galaxy to our own."

"I have a cousin named Andromeda," Sirius remarked sleepily. "She was the only other sane one besides me. Married a Muggle-born and was disowned. They have a daughter now, Nymphadora. She's a Metamorphamagus, which is pretty cool, but still. Nymphadora." He snorted. "Who names their poor kid Nymphadora? If we ever have any children, Remus, remind me not to name any of them Nymphadora."

"Will do," Remus said to humor him. "You're babbling, though. You can tell me what that star is, right? The brightest one?"

Sirius was feeling particularly lazy, so he said, "Um…remind me?"

Remus sighed. "Did you pay _any_ attention at all in Astronomy? I know you got an Outstanding OWL, but still, you've forgotten _everything_. That's Sirius, the dog star. I thought you'd be able to remember that one, at least."

"Right, right," Sirius said. "Well, I know the moon. That looks nice tonight, anyway."

"I think so too."

"You hate the moon."

"Only when it makes me turn into a big, hairy monster. It's a crescent tonight. I like crescents."

Sirius smiled. "Moony, we are indeed a pair of handsome celestial bodies."

Remus ignored the temptation to hit Sirius and just looked at him instead. The other boy's drying hair glowed in the moonlight, the smile played nicely across his face. His eyes sparkled. "I love you," Remus told him abruptly. "I don't think I've ever told you that before."

"You haven't."

"Well," Remus said, "I do."

For a second, Sirius didn't say anything, just looked up at the moon, and Remus' breath caught in his throat. Then he said, "You know what, Moony? I love you too."

"Good." Remus simply took Sirius' hand and squeezed it, and together they fell asleep.


	7. Members of the Order

_A/N: Sorry guys! What with school and homework and copious lack of inspiration, I haven't had much to write. I finally managed to get a new chapter up, though. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last one, I'm sorry to keep you guys waiting so long. To tell the truth, chapter six was my favorite one of all of them so far._

_So you know the deal: read and review! Mischeif managed?_

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**7: Members of the Order**

In the coming months, Remus awakens many, many times to the pecking of an owl at his window.

More often than not, Sirius is already up and lets it in, and when Remus enters the kitchen he finds the other man pouring over a letter, owl perched on the faucet, hooting impatiently, waiting for a reply. Remus recognizes the handwriting from grading Defense Against the Dark Arts papers in a career that now seems far in the distant past. He also knows the writing because it looks so much like James'.

"How's Harry?" he asks, and the answer is always the same.

"I'm worried about him."

And for a long time, it's the same question, the same response, until the day Sirius decides to elaborate. "You remember hearing about the Triwizard Tournament?"

Remus furrows his brow. "Vaguely. Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and Hogwarts compete, one representative from each school. Hasn't been held for centuries, but is being restarted this year, at Hogwarts. Close?"

Sirius nods. "Only they have an age limit now. No one under seventeen is allowed to enter."

"That makes sense." Remus can imagine some of his more ambitious former first-years entering, then finding themselves up against a dragon, with disastrous consequences. "What does Harry say about it?"

"That's the alarming thing." Sirius frowns. "Someone entered Harry in the tournament. He's competing."

"Someone _what?_"

"My thoughts exactly." Sirius runs his fingers through his hair distractedly. "There are now four champions instead of three." He sighs. "I've been worried sick about Harry ever since the Dark Mark appeared at the Quidditch World Cup. Now I know for sure someone's trying to hurt him. Of course, they'll have a hard time of it with Dumbledore and Moody around, but…" He trails off, looking lost.

"What are you going to tell him?" Remus asks.

"I don't know," Sirius says. "I need some time to think, and I don't—Harry doesn't—have that luxury."

Remus leans forward across the table, kisses Sirius, and assures him, "Harry couldn't have asked for a better godfather."

Early one morning, as winter's chill is beginning to set in, Remus wakes and Sirius isn't beside him. He stumbles out of the bedroom to see Sirius pulling his head out of the fireplace, looking sooty, disheveled, and frustrated.

"Harry?" Remus asks groggily, rubbing his eyes.

Sirius, obviously agitated, nods. "Remus, the first task—"

There is a very loud knock on the door. Sirius swears. "Who could be bloody calling at this time of night?"

The knock is louder this time, and it's accompanied with a shout. "Open up, Ministry of Magic!" They knock again, and Remus is afraid the door might break down.

"_No_. Sirius—"

Sirius doesn't even need to be told once. In an instant, a great black dog is standing in his place, growling at the door. Remus nods uncertainly, composes himself, and opens the door.

Two very official-looking wizards stare, unexpressive, as Remus leans on the doorframe and yawns convincingly. "You people have the most ridiculous sense of timing. Anyway, what can I do for—Kingsley Shacklebolt, is that you?"

"Remus," Kingsley rumbles. He's only gotten bigger, stronger, and stonier since the last time Remus saw him, years ago. "I apologize for the inconvenience, but we have received several persistent anonymous tips that you are harboring the escaped criminal—"

"Sirius Black," Remus finishes. "I wonder who those could be from?" He thinks he knows. He had not been on good terms with the Potions Master of Hogwarts the last time they had parted. "Well, you might as well come in. You won't find him here, though. Kingsley, I haven't seen you in _ages_. Not since…"

The words "the last meeting of the Order" hang in the air, unspoken. The other wizard, who looks like a midget next to Kingsley, clears his throat in a manner that's supposed to be official. "Ahem, Kinglsey, we should begin our search."

"Of course," says Kingley. The moment the two Ministry wizards step over the threshold, Sirius begins barking as if he were possessed. Despite Remus' many commands of "Snuffles, no!" Sirius persists until he sees Kingsley, and then he quiets, trots over, and licks the black wizard's hand. Kingsley pats him awkwardly on the head. "That's funny," he muses. "Animals don't usually take to me."

"Er," Remus says. "Snuffles is a very friendly dog. Very affectionate." Sirius gives a low, short bark of agreement. As if to prove a point, he fetches the previous day's _Daily Prophet_ from the kitchen table and drops it at Kingsley's feet, wagging his tail.

The short wizard—an Auror, Remus supposes, like Kingsley—shakes his head impatiently. "Kingsley," he says warningly.

"Right. You take the rooms to the left. Remus, come with me in here, I have some questions for you."

Remus follows Kingsley into his own bedroom with Sirius at his heels. The three have barely taken two steps into the room when Kingsley casts a powerful anti-eavesdropping spell over the door. Remus raises an eyebrow. "Precautionary measure?"

"He can't hear this," Kingsley explains. "Remus, I'm sorry for bothering you, but ignoring several anonymous tips would have been suspicious in the eyes of the Ministry. Dumbledore has informed me of the _actual_ events leading up to Sirius' incarceration, and I would have found some way around actually arresting him."

"You won't find him here," Remus says, scratching Sirius behind the ear. "He's a good boy, you know. Very clever."

"Right." Kingsley looks at the dog as it noses Remus' hand, leaning into him, demanding more scratches. "But I have a message from Dumbledore. It's addressed to Sirius as well. For some reason"—he glances at the dog, who is now staring at him with a curious intensity—"he thought you two would be together."

"You might as well," Remus tells Sirius. "He's on our side, after all."

The dog squirms a bit, uncomfortable, and then becomes Sirius, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "I'll never understand how he does it. The man knows _everything_."

"Yes," Remus agrees, taking the letter from Kingsley, whose face does not betray any trace of surprise. He doesn't look much of anything at all. He never does. Remus thinks that Kingsley is the only person he knows who can remain completely stony while everyone else is laughing. "It's a good thing he's on our side, then. Read this."

They peered over the letter, written in Albus Dumbledore's familiar script:

_If Kingsley is with you for any reason other than a pleasant social call, it is reasonable to assume that Sirius is no longer safe in your company. Remus, Sirius, for both of your sakes, I strongly suggest that you two part ways, at least for now._

_I have no doubt that there will be need to call upon the Order once again in the very near future. In the meantime, lie low. Be safe. Sirius, stay in contact, I may be able to find another hiding place for you._

_Albus Dumbledore_

"He knows bloody _everything_," Remus hears Sirius mutter, but with much less enthusiasm this time. He looks distressed.

"Kingsley!" the other Auror calls from what sounds like the kitchen. "There's nothing here, no concealment spells, trap doors, nothing."

"Right," Kingsley says loudly. "Well, thank you for being so cooperative, Remus. Again, sorry to bother you."

"I'll see you out," Remus volunteers, leaving Sirius alone with his thoughts. "Well, good night, Kingsley. It was great seeing you. Next time drop by when it's light out, and if you give me some advance warning I might be able to make reservations at a restaurant or something. Have a nice night."

He closes the door on Kingsley and the other Auror and hears them Disapparate with a loud crack. When he gets back to the bedroom, Sirius is laying on the bed, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. "Kingsley didn't really search the bedroom that well," Sirius remarks, alarmingly detached. "If I were you, Remus, I'd keep me locked up in here and use me for my own personal amusement."

Remus climbs onto the bed next to Sirius, who doesn't look at him. "Sirius, I…I can't believe this."

"It was coming. It had to come sometime. Remus, people…people can't let well enough alone, can they? I mean"—and he turns to Remus then—"look at me. I almost look like the man I was thirteen years ago. I almost _feel_ like him, Remus. Some things I can't forget, and I've lost a third of my life, there's no getting that back, but this is the closest thing to happiness that I've had in forever." He touches Remus' cheek. "I had you. Things were almost normal."

"You still have me," Remus assures him. "That isn't going to change. Just…lie low for awhile, and I'm sure you'll be able to come back soon." He isn't, but he doesn't show it. For Sirius.

Sirius nods, moves closer to Remus, kisses him as if he's trying to drink him in completely. "I'll leave in the morning," he says, kissing Remus again and again. "I'll go, it's just…I need you."

And somehow Remus finds enough voice to tell him that he understands.

When he wakes up in the morning and the bed is empty next to him, he closes his eyes and sighs.

* * *

A month after Hogwarts, Remus had packed his things, bid his parents goodbye, and was now officially moved out of his house. It was a bit of a difficult, awkward change; he was still only eighteen, a young eighteen. Remus had never been aware of how painfully young he actually _was_ as when he left his childhood home. He felt ready to leave, but he wasn't ready for the tears in his mother's eyes, or the way his father clapped him on the back as if her were a man. He _wasn't_ a man, not yet. Sirius and James might think they could take on the world, but he didn't. Remus knew better than that. 

Standing at the door of Sirius' flat with his belongings, he somehow felt less an adult than ever. But maybe that would change when he saw Sirius. He raised his hand and knocked.

Sirius was grinning when he opened the door. "Right on time, Moony, as usual." He kissed Remus, who returns the kiss until he realizes that they're still in the middle of the hallway and anyone would be able to see. He squirmed. "Sirius—_Sirius!_—mmph. Can't we inside first?"

"Right." Sirius was still grinning, grinning like a crazy person. "Should I carry you over the threshold, or what?"

"That might be a bad idea," Remus said. "I think I'm bigger than you now." He knew he was: they were within an inch of each other's heights, but Remus felt that he hadn't really grown into himself yet, all awkward arms and big hands. Much, much different from Sirius, who was all right and proportional and too handsome for his own good. He carried his bags inside and kicked the door shut behind him.

The moment he was inside, Sirius was on him again, snogging him senseless, only this time Remus didn't mind so much. They knocked up against the door with a bang but still kept at it until Sirius' foot got caught on Remus' bag and he tripped and they both fell over, crashing to the floor. Sirius was laughing.

"Ow!" Remus exclaimed. "That was my head."

"Sorry, sorry, it's just…I haven't seen you for a month." Sirius smiled again. He just couldn't stop, and he wore a smile so well that it made Remus feel giddy. All doubts had melted away. "You look good. You look _tan_. Who are you?"

"I don't usually tan," Remus told him. "I burn, you know that. You should have seen me last week, I was as red as a tomato. And not just on my face, but _everywhere_. Too much time out in the sun. That doesn't happen to me."

Sirius suddenly studied him with very serious eyes. "How was your trip?"

Remus know exactly what he wanted to get at. Immediately after graduation he had traveled, unaccompanied, to America, partially for holiday purposes, yes, but mostly because there had been an incredibly important discovery across the Atlantic: a potion that would supposedly keep a werewolf from biting while transformed. They called it the Wolfsbane Potion. Because Remus would soon be moving in with Sirius, he didn't want his condition to cause any problems. But the potion was experimental, yet. "I volunteered to be a test subject, Sirius. It's so new still, and they were having a hard time finding people—the werewolf community isn't exactly the most open…"

"You idiot," Sirius said. "What if you'd gotten yourself killed in the name of science? I'd never forgive you."

Remus laughed, but lightly, and he swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "Well, it worked, Sirius. It worked. That's what they tell me, I don't remember, of course. The only think is that I was unbelievably ill for a day or two afterwards." He indicated his bag with a jerk of his head. "They played around with the ingredients a little and think that they figured out what made me so sick. I have some with me to take next full moon, it shouldn't be dangerous. I'm supposed to write them and tell them if there are any side effects."

Sirius looked concerned. "But you'll be alright?"

"I should be fine," Remus assured him. "And if by chance it doesn't work or something, you can keep me in check as Padfoot. As long as you don't make me angry."

Sirius' grin returned, and he got up on his knees and held a hand out to help Remus up. "Well, I guess we'd better get you unpacked, then."

"No need." Remus took Sirius' hand and pulled himself up, then took his wand from his pocket and made a wide, sweeping motion with a little flick at the end.

It was as if a powerful shock wave had ripped through the room. Sirius was knocked to the floor again. Remus' things fired out of his suitcase and scattered all over: clothes flew and folded themselves into drawers, various other objects landed perfectly on shelves, tables, chairs, or cabinets. The room itself looked much cleaner. Sirius gaped.

"What did you _do_?!" he asked, openmouthed, marveling at the neatness of it all, something he had never really seen before.

Remus helped him up this time. "Combination unpacking and cleaning spell. I've been practicing that one forever, thought it might come in handy. Still a little too strong, though." He paused, seeming to notice Sirius for the first time. "Um…your hair…"

"What about it?"

"It's…"

Sirius glanced in the mirror, which had previously been a little crooked. "Moony!" His hair was now perfectly parted and combed flat on his head, just the way he hated it. He ran a hand through it and it went back to normal again. "That _was _strong." Remus could barely contain his laughter as Sirius peered into the kitchen and exclaimed, "Merlin, everything really is _clean_. How'd you…"

Remus shrugged. "You'd never use it, anyway."

"Probably true." Sirius laughed and pulled Remus by the arm. His eyes were gleaming. "Come with me, I want to show you something."

"Sirius—Sirius, I've been to your flat before, remember, we spent Christmas here, what are you…yes, I've seen your room before, what are you trying to—oh. _Oh_." Remus grinned. "I'm obtuse, aren't I?"

"Lovably so," said Sirius, and pulled him into the bedroom.

They were thoroughly occupied when they heard a knock on the door. "Don't you _dare_ get that," Sirius hissed.

"Wasn't planning on it," Remus managed.

The knock came again. Again they ignored it. Then there were three very loud and impatient knocks, and Remus sat up and sighed and said, "I'll get it. I still have a shirt on, anyway."

Remus stood and made his way somewhat clumsily to the door. He was going to try to shoo whoever it was away as quickly as possible and get back to Sirius. Upon opening it, he began, "Um, hello, we're sorry, but…" but the rest of the sentence trailed off into oblivion.

Standing outside was Professor Minerva McGonagall.

"Who is it?" Sirius asked blearily. Remus glanced over his shoulder to see Sirius standing on the other side of the room, still shirtless, and completely unaware that he was in full view of the person on the other side of the doorframe.

"Mr. Lupin," Professor McGonagall addressed him, nodding her head and looking her absolute sternest. "Mr. Black. I don't want to know."

"I'll go put on some tea," Remus said, and fled.

When Remus returned with the tea, Professor McGonagall and Sirius were sitting across from each other in the small sitting room area, Sirius slouching on the couch, McGonagall sitting stiffly in a chair. Sirius, thankfully, had found his shirt. Remus put the tea tray on the small table between Sirius and the Professor and sat down next to Sirius on the couch.

"Erm, how do you take your tea, Professor?" Remus asked in a rather strangled voice. "One lump or two?"

"No lumps necessary, thank you," said Professor McGonagall. "Milk though, yes, thank you. That's quite enough."

"Where did we get a tea set from?" Sirius whispered through clenched teeth as Professor McGonagall sipped her tea.

"I brought it," Remus whispered back.

"You _would_."

Professor McGonagall set down her teacup and looked at them both with a focused intensity. "I need you both to be very serious," she said. "I know you can do that, Remus. It will be difficult for you, Sirius, but I expect you to try."

"Urk," said Sirius noncommittally.

"What he means, Professor," Remus rushed, "is why did you just call us by our first names? You didn't before."

"I forgot myself," said Professor McGonagall. "You two are adults now, and should be treated as such."

"Will we…have to call you…_Minerva_?" Sirius asked, sounding like he was about to choke on the informality.

"You may call me whatever you wish," she said brusquely. "However, the issue of how I address you or you me is not the one I have been sent to discuss with you." She leaned forward, somehow still very straight. "Have either of you heard of an organization called the Order of the Phoenix?"

They looked at each other. "The Order of the Phoenix?" Remus repeated. "No. What is that Profes—er, Minerv—er, ma'am?"

"Dumbledore is forming a secret society of wizards to combat the influence of the dark wizard Voldemort. He is growing more powerful every day, recruiting more followers, Death Eaters, I'm sure you've heard of them." Sirius and Remus exchanged glances. They hadn't had the luxury of forgetting about their encounter with the Death Eaters in the winter. Unlike the Death Eaters involved, that was. "We counter that influence, attempt to foil the plans of Voldemort."

"Aren't Aurors supposed to combat dark wizards?" Remus asked.

Professor McGonagall sighed. "The problem with being an Auror," she explained, "is that the Ministry, while well-intentioned, sometimes gets tied up in political matters and does not use its resources for the greater good. Also, everyone knows you're an Auror, which makes you more of a target off-duty. The key to this entire operation is 'secrecy.' Do you understand me?"

They nodded. Professor McGonagall sat back. "Good. Now, you two are part of a group of newly graduated students who Dumbledore has chosen to participate in a training program for the Order. Hogwarts' best and brightest. He's investing a lot of trust in you, I hope"—she peered over her spectacles at Sirius—"that you do not let him down."

"Urk," said Sirius.

Remus said, "Of course we won't. When do we begin?"

"You two aren't beginning _anything_ until you are both properly trained," Professor McGonagall informed him. "For all of the less-experienced inductees of the Order, Dumbledore has requested instruction from the older members. I know it seems, boys, that you're ready to take on a room full of Death Eaters, but there is still much you must learn." Remus elbowed Sirius before he could interrupt. They had been lucky. They had been _insanely_ lucky. "Therefore, I will be over every weekday evening and Saturday mornings for the next month, giving you an extensive overview of advanced dueling and Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"You mean…over…_here_?" Sirius asked, apparently still unsure of how to use his mouth.

"Unless this is not your flat, Sirius."

"It is," Remus assured her. "Thank you Profes—er, Minerv—well, thank you for your time."

"Not at all." Professor McGonagall finished her tea and set down her cup on the tray. Remus magicked it away, out of sight, and the absence of the sound of breaking china signaled that it had landed safely in the kitchen. Or nosily in Tibet. "Thank you for handling this like adults."

"I guess that's what we are now," Remus said.

"Yes…" She eyed them both. "Merlin help us."

They both saw her to the door; she nodded and Disapparated. The sigh, a nervous release, that erupted from both Sirius and Remus seemed to fill the room.

"The Order of the Phoenix," Remus mused. The name itself sounded official, mysterious, something they were privileged to be in. "That was important."

Sirius wasn't exactly thing on the same lines Remus was. He leaned against the door, tilted his head back, eyes closed. "Dumbledore could have sent someone else, _any_one else." He looked at Remus. "That completely killed the mood, you know."

"I know," Remus replied, a little irked at Sirius' inability to take anything, well, seriously. Something in Sirius' expression, though, was contagious. "Well…we'll just have to try harder then, won't we?"

"Right," Sirius said. "Absolutely."

A few minutes later, there was another knock on the door that neither of them wanted to answer. When whoever it was knocked again, Sirius cursed and threw on his shirt, which had again ended up in a crumpled pile on the floor. "Fuck. Can't we get a moment's peace around here? I'll be right back, gonna tell whoever it is to go the hell away."

Remus lay in semi-darkness, in the tossed sheets of Sirius' bed, and suddenly all of the sounds seemed so much clearer. He heard, first and foremost, the beating of his own heart, his own rushed breathing in his ears, and then Sirius' footsteps, diminishing as he grew farther and farther away, and then the click of the door as Sirius opened it and said, "Why can't you people—oh. _James_?"

James' footsteps were louder and much quicker than Sirius', and soon followed by a softer pair. A woman's feet. Lily's feet. Remus pulled himself up an dheard James say, "Sirius! Did you—hey, what's up, you look sorta flushed."

"Unpacking for Remus," Sirius managed, "is hard work."

"Looks like you're almost done," Lily observed, a peculiar note in her voice. _She _knows, Remus thought. _Of course she knows._ "Where's Remus?"

"Here," Remus said, stepping out of Sirius' bedroom. James look completely oblivious, thankfully, blissfully so. Lily didn't. Her observant green eyes stripped Remus down, noticing every wrinkle in his clothing, his mussed-up hair. "I was just…putting away some things." The lie sounds hollow in his ears.

"So did they get to you too?" James asked excitedly, ignoring the strangeness of Remus having been "putting away some things" in Sirius' bedroom.

"James!" Lily exclaimed. "You're not doing well with the secrecy aspect. At least _try_, for Merlin's sake."

"Well, I mean…I assumed that…"

"Yes," Sirius said. "Yes. Order of the Phoenix. About ten minutes ago. McGonagall told us."

"McGonagall?" James goggled, incredulous. "Well, lucky for you. We got old Alastor Moody himself. Peter was over, too, when he called, and I think maybe old Dumbledore felt a bit bad about not including him or something, so he's in too. Just like old times, eh? The four of us."

"Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs." There was a goofy doggy smile now on Sirius' face. Awkwardness forgotten. "Marauders against the Dark Arts. I can't believe _Moody's_ your mentor. Merlin's beard, you got lucky."

"Yep," James grinned. "Definitely. He seems a little paranoid, but he definitely knows his stuff. Can't believe you ended up with old McGonagall. I know she was _your_ absolute favorite, Sirius."

"Remus," Lily interjected. "How was your trip?"

So this was what it was like, Remus supposed, being two halves of a perfect whole. One hadn't quite grown up yet, one was mature and attune to others. One was more serious, the other more silly. One was daring, the other sensible. They were different enough to be separate people with enough in common to get along on a day to day basis. They shared so much. A sense of humor. Intelligence. Trust. Affection. Passion. James and Lily. He and Sirius. Whichever way you chose to look at it, there it was, the formula. And Remus liked that.

"My trip was great," he said out loud. "Worthwhile," he added, with a meaningful glance at James. Lily didn't know he was a werewolf. Not yet, anyway.

"Great," James said. "That's excellent. And it looks like you finally got out in the sun, some, too. Never would have thought it of you, antisocial little bookworm that you are." He said it fondly, though. They all played their parts in the group.

Looking from Remus to Sirius and back again, Lily said, "We'd better let you two finish...unpacking."

"We could help!" James volunteered.

"I don't think they need our help," Lily told him, seizing James by the arm. "It looks like they have everything under control."

"Yep, yep, that we do," said Sirius, a little upset at being deprived of the chance to discuss the Order with James but much more relieved at Lily's ability to catch on, and quickly. "Thanks for stopping by, say hi to Peter, have fun with Moody!"

"Have fun with McGonagall!" James called cheerfully as Lily shut the door behind him.

Alone at last. Sirius flopped down on the couch. "Moony," he moaned. "The sex gods are working against us."

"Well," Remus pointed out, "you know what they say about the third time being the charm."

Sirius sat up at that. "You're right. You're _absolutely_ right. As always. Come here."

And Sirius stood up, kissed Remus hungrily, and practically dragged him into the bedroom, but not without one last insight. "Moony?"

"Mmph. What?"

"If anyone knocks again, I'm turning the door into a wall."

But the door remained a door, and neither boy left the bedroom again for the rest of the night.


	8. Worrywart

_A/N: Hi, I'm sorry for taking os long to update (and for the filler nature of this chapter). School and everything's been somewhat crazy, and inspiration has been sparse. Better stuff soon, I promise. Also, I want to thank some reviewers individually for once, which probably won't be habit, but I have some time:_

_truest-of-true-loves: Glad you like it! I _try _not to be random with the tenses, generally the past is written in past and the present in present. If you catch me slipping up again, let me know._

_Bottlebrush: Always a joy to get a review from you. They're long and detailed and constructive and I appreciate that a lot. It helps me as a writer to have people like you looking out for me._

_MoonyIsTheMan:Thankees. :)_

_Grace Veronica: I know, it really does, doesn't it? But they're so adorable anyway. And you have the prettiest penname, for a second I thought you were someone I knew from school...hehe._

_cackles the witch: Another nice penname. Glad you like it._

_LadyAnalyn: That's okay that you have nothing to say, good to hear from you anyway. You've been here since the beginning, and I love knowing you're still there._

_And of course, thanks to Remy and my sister as well. I'll be on a trip this weekend and back on Sunday, and I look forward to hearing from you again! For now..._

* * *

**8: Worrywart**

Seven months.

Seven long and worrisome months have passed since the last time Remus saw Sirius. He has no _reliable_ way of contacting the other man, after all, owls are easily intercepted and each one seems to take longer to return, seeing as Sirius is always on the run. Remus has no way of knowing what Sirius is up to, or if he's even alive, besides the _Daily Prophet_, which was utter rubbish in general and would probably proclaim the capture of notorious criminal Sirius Black by the Ministry, yes, but not by Death Eaters. The only notes which arrive by owl are always very short and very vague: "_Safe. On the move again, can't say were. Sorry to make you worry. Miss you. Love you. Sirius_."

Having Sirius back had made Remus feel like a new man. Having him gone makes him feel like an old one. Every day, he looks in the mirror and sees that his hair, which had begun to gray prematurely after the deaths of James and Lily and the imprisonment of Sirius, is becoming grayer and grayer by the day. His health is deteriorating too, he can feel it. He is losing weight. He is sicker around the full moon than usual. No number of afternoon naps can erase the dark circles under his eyes. It's hard to concentrate on anything else _besides_ Sirius. Things that used to matter, like work, seem to slip between the cracks of everyday and fall away.

One line that he does follow is Harry's progress in the Triwizard Tournament. While the _Prophet_ always adds some unpleasant embellishments, delving so deeply into what is purported to be the poor boy's personal life that Remus feels embarrassed, he manages to glean the wins and losses and important details. He figures that one thing Sirius _would _do would be to intervene if his godson ends up in too much trouble. However, Harry had preformed well on the first two tasks, and there was no mention anywhere of some enormous black dog bounding into the competition and saving Harry's hide by dragging him out of danger by the collar of his shirt. Remus is sure that the _Prophet_ would have mentioned _that_, at least. Sirius is either sensibly keeping his distance, or…

Remus doesn't want to consider the alternative. Only thing to do is to watch. And to wait.

* * *

"No, no, Sirius, watch this," Remus said for the zillionth time. He was already tired, and a little snappish, even though it wasn't yet evening. "There's a little flick at the end and you're missing it. Like this." 

"No. Stop. I _know_ there's a flick at the end, I just—ah, blast—there we go!" A small, bluish shield appeared around Sirius, who looked very pleased with himself. Remus poked it lightly with his wand and it flickered and died. Sirius frowned. "Damn."

"An improvement," said Professor McGonagall, who was watching them from the couch. "You must concentrate harder, Sirius."

"I _am_ bloody concentrating," Sirius muttered. "It's not my fault it isn't working."

"He's doing really well at everything else," Remus said over Sirius' complaints. Sirius and Remus had been sparing partners during their training, and Remus knew personally that his attacks were excellent. "You've said that yourself. He's just not great with defensive spells. It's only been a week, there's still time."

Professor McGonagall sighed. "Very well, Sirius. Let's see one of your strengths. Stun him."

"What," Sirius said. "You mean with my charm and good looks?"

"No, I mean with your wand."

"Oh, well, _that's_ no fun." Sirius winked at Remus, who was rolling his eyes. "Okay. I'll try not to hurt you. Ready?" Remus nodded. "_Stupefy_!"

Red light, then nothing. The funny thing about being unconscious is that it's like falling asleep in one bizarre respect: you don't remember that any time that passes between the time you were knocked out and the time you woke up. One minute Remus was standing, and the next he was on the floor. Now revived, he blinked up at the ceiling, wondering briefly why his head hurt (_from the fall_, he figured) and why he was lying down, and why Sirius looked so concerned kneeling over him.

"You alright?" Sirius asked. "You look pale. I'm sorry, I forgot, I didn't mean to—"

"It's not you," Remus assured him. "Nice hit, by the way. If you could…help me up…thanks." As Sirius pulled Remus to his feet, he looked at Professor McGonagall, one of the few outside Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs who knew his secret, and explained, "Full moon tonight." He staggered suddenly—Sirius started and reached to catch him—but he regained his balance and managed to make his way to one of the chairs before his knees gave out on him completely.

"I think it would be best to call it a night," Professor McGonagall said, looking Remus over, taking in how faint he seemed. "Considering."

"Good idea," Sirius agreed. He stood behind the chair, hand clutching Remus' shoulder. He always became a little overprotective of Remus before his painful transformations. "Good night, then. See you…"

"Tomorrow morning," McGonagall finished curtly. "It's Saturday morning." She smiled at Remus—the smallest hint of a smile, but a smile nonetheless. She should smile more often, it became her, made her seem more like a mother and less like a teacher. "Feel better."

"Thanks," Remus said, returning the smile. McGonagall nodded, turned on the spot, and Disapparated with a crack.

Sirius knelt down beside the arm of the chair. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Fine," Remus said. "I'm fine. I need to take the potion now, before…" He looked out the window. The sun was setting, the sky outside amber. "_Accio Wolfsbane_!" he called, flicking his wand.

A small flask flew from the direction of the kitchen and Sirius caught it with ease. He held it up to the light, studying the unappealingly-colored contents. "You're not _really_ going to drink this, are you?"

"I have to. I'm not going to risk trashing your apartment and potentially biting you. Give it here." Sirius reluctantly handed Remus the flask, and he uncorked it. Smoke poured out, and Remus saw Sirius flinch. "I swear, I'll be alright." He raised the flask to his lips.

"Moony," Sirius said, "I don't want you to drink that."

Remus looked up. Sirius' face was pale and wrought with apprehension. He was gripping Remus' arm so tightly that Remus was afraid he would leave bruises. "Look," he said. "Sirius. I've taken it before, and they've made it even safer since then. You have to trust me."

Sirius just looked at Remus for a minute, then at the flask skeptically, then at Remus' determined face again, and nodded. "You're sure."

"Positive," Remus replied. "You're being silly. I'll be fine." With one last glance at the flask, he said, "Cheers," and gulped down a mouthful of the Wolfsbane potion.

He'd almost forgotten how horrible it tasted from the last time he'd had it. The taste was a bit less strong this time, but still nearly unbearable. He closed his eyes and took another swig, draining the potion to the last drop. He noticed Sirius watching him carefully and said, "I feel fine."

Sirius let out the breath he'd been holding. "Good. That's good. That's really really good."

"Were you really afraid I was going to die?"

"Of course not. That's ridiculous. Absolutely not true."

"Right." Remus looked out the window again. The sun was almost gone. "You'd better get somewhere safer. In case it doesn't work. Barricade yourself in the bedroom or something." Sirius gave Remus a dubious look, and he added, "I'm _fine_. Go!"

Sirius left him, and Remus sat alone in the chair, waiting for the moon to rise.

The first things to change, again, as always, were his senses. He felt the familiar rush of dread that came with the knowledge of what was about to occur, and instinctively stood up as nervous adrenaline rushed to his muscles. Almost immediately, he dropped to his knees, staring at his palms pressed against the floor, panting. It was different this time. He felt like all of his energy was being drained. There was no pain, but he was numb all over. In some ways, it was easier to bear than the usual. He shook off his clothes, which were now awkwardly the wrong size. His legs thinned, he felt a tail sprout, his ears pricked. And then, there he stood, a wolf. A normal-sized wolf. A harmless wolf.

Something wasn't right. He felt overheated. He was shaking. And suddenly, he was cold. Too cold. Still shivering. Weak. Warm. Cold. Have to go somewhere constant. He trotted to the kitchen and lay his warm warm warm cheek on the cool cool cool tile, and tried to forget his illness and sleep.

His sharp ears picked up a creak from across the flat. Footsteps. Human footsteps. It would interest him, but he had no strength. And the footsteps grew closer…closer…he smelled human. Male. Curious. A little fearful. As long as the creature knew enough to let him alone. He heard the man say softly, hesitantly, questioningly, "Remus?"

The word meant nothing to the wolf, although it seemed important to the human. He saw two bare feet enter his view and turned his head. The wolf was in no state to be confronting anyone. If he ignored the human, perhaps he would go away.

Scents changed. Footsteps changed. A great black dog trotted over to the wolf, tail wagging. The wolf had the faintest sense that this dog was someone who he was alright with, who wouldn't attack him, or provoke attack. The dog nosed him. He just blinked back with feverish yellow eyes. It licked his muzzle, but he was too weak to respond except with a soft whine. The dog's tail swished nervously, and the wolf could smell his worry, though he didn't know why the dog felt so.

The dog left his sight briefly, disappearing, first the head, then the belly, then the hind legs, then the swishing tail. But then the wolf could _feel_ him, as the dog lay down behind him and settled his head on the wolf's shoulder. Among dogs and wolves, this was a sign of dominance. But among this dog and this wolf, it was something different entirely. It was _comfort_.

The wolf closed his eyes and fell into a restless slumber.

When Remus awoke, he was a human again. He felt feverish, his limbs covered in sweat, but a good night sleep had helped him recover just a little bit. He was still on the floor of their kitchen, naked, and he should have been cold except for someone very warm pressed against him.

Everywhere Sirius was touching Remus was forgiven, no matter how scarred and ill he was. Sirius, even in his sleep, was holding on as if he never wanted to let Remus go, as if simply his presence would help them both. Remus was content to just lay on the floor like that, a beautiful tangle of bare arms and legs, and he leaned back into Sirius and felt the other man stir.

"Moony," Sirius murmured sleepily into Remus' ear. "You scared me."

"I'm okay now," Remus said, and it was true. "What happened?"

"You were burning up." Sirius snuggled into him. "You're still too warm. I was worried. I _am_ worried."

"A fever?" Remus asked. "That's it?" Sirius nodded into his shoulder. "It was worse last time. Terrible fever. Nausea. Spasms. I didn't get better for two days. This is an improvement. I should send an owl—"

"You're not getting up so fast." Sirius tightened his grip. "Saturday morning, we don't have anything to do. You rest."

"Not _here_," Remus said. Saturday morning, Saturday morning… "McGonagall's coming. We need to get up and dressed. You remember what happened last time you were missing important articles of clothing?"

Sirius groaned and rolled over. "Alright. I'm getting up. But _you're_ sleeping in today. No lessons for you. It'll just be me and the lovely Minerva."

"Lucky her."

Sirius helped Remus back to the bedroom and into pajamas. He pulled the covers over Remus and was almost dressed when the now-familiar knocking was again heard on their door. He grinned, kissed Remus on the forehead, and closed the bedroom door on his way out. Remus could hear Sirius explaining the illness to McGonagall, then he listened for a few more minutes and heard Sirius recite several incantations for protective spells, then a pause, and then Sirius was laughing at some joke that he'd most likely made himself. Remus turned over, closed his eyes, and thought that he was probably one of the luckiest men in the world.


	9. News of a Dark Lord

_A/N: It's me again! Sorry, I know it's been awhile. I've been--well hell, I've just plain been uninspired. However, in celebration of the fact that Rowling outed Dumbledore (and didn't the fanfiction authors know it first?) I've decided to update. Thanks as always to all of my wonderful reviewers - you're all fabulous people. And now:

* * *

_

**9: News of a Dark Lord**

It's worse now than it ever has been. Remus hasn't heard from Sirius in nearly a month, and he can't help wondering why. His illogical side immediately leaps to the worst conclusion possible: Sirius has been captured, or killed. His more rational side scolds the illogical part and says that Sirius is probably just busy running from place to place or being cautious and doesn't have time to send a note. Remus figures that all this arguing with himself can't be doing anyone much good.

He sits in his kitchen, listening to the old radio blare out updates on the results of the final task. Harry had emerged unscathed, but the other Hogwarts champion, a student Remus had _known_ and _taught_, a charming Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory, had been killed. That sort of thing did happen in the Triwizard Tournament, of course, that's why there had been the age line, but it didn't make this any easier to accept. The thing which _really_ puzzles Remus is why no one has announced the cause of death. Everyone had seen two live boys leave with a portkey, which all the commentators said had been part of the challenge, albeit a surprise, and one live boy and one dead boy return. But hadn't Harry told someone how Cedric died by now? How close had Harry, now the winner of the entire tournament, come to meeting the same fate?

Remus is now tuning the radio out, largely trying to concentrate on his thoughts, Sirius, and Harry, and Cedric, dead, and then Sirius again. He suddenly hears something that startles him out of his musings: a loud knock on the door.

Knocks on the door typically mean surprises. And in times like these, when boys are killed without explanation and Dark Marks are cast over Quidditch World Cups, it's best to prepare for the worst.

Remus grabs his wand and, holding it at the ready, makes his way cautiously towards the door. "Who's there?" he calls out.

"Open the door, Remus," says a very familiar and weary-sounding voice from the other side. Remus' heart skips a beat. He's almost afraid he's imagining things. _Sirius_?

Remus obliges and lets the other man in. Sirius looks thin and tired and worried, but he's _alive_, thank Merlin, and he reaches out and puts a hand on Remus' shoulder and just looks at him and isn't a hallucination and that's alright.

Remus and Sirius don't say anything, only it's the kind of not-saying-anything where the air fairly crackles with heat that has nothing to do with summer. It is impossible to say who moves first, the only thing that matters is that they almost meet in the middle, and then each holds the other's face for a tenuous moment before they crash in a kiss. It's the sort of powerful, fiery kiss where heavy words like "I missed you" and "I love you" and "thank Merlin you're _alive_" don't need to be said because they can be felt through contact alone. They kiss and kiss and kiss for what feels like so beautifully long and is entirely too deliriously short, because then they need to breathe and the kiss evolves into a hug and they're panting and laughing and so damn relieved that nothing else matters.

They break apart and just look at each other, again, longer. Sirius says, "You've gotten thin."

"So have you. And your eyes—"

"Yours too."

"Your hair is longer."

"Yours is almost all gray." Sirius brushes a strand of almost-all-gray hair from Remus' face back behind his ear. "We're getting old, Moony."

Remus smiles, and he means it for the first time in months, and he feels like laughing. Or crying. Whichever comes first. "That we are."

Sirius takes Remus' hand and kisses it softly, strokes it with his thumb, as if touching even a small part of Remus is enough. There are tears in his eyes. "I'm so sorry, I lost touch, it was…Remus, it was Harry, he's been in grave danger, if only you knew…"

Remus nods. "I figured as much. Sit down, tell me about it."

"I don't have that much _time_," Sirius says. "I wish I had more. I have to get to everyone else, all the old crowd. I came to you first because I didn't want you to have to worry for too long…"

"_Sit_," Remus commands. "You're weak. I'll get you something to drink, just sit down for a second. The others can wait fifteen minutes to give you time to catch your breath. _Merlin_," he adds, "you don't know how good it is to see you again."

Sirius slumps down on the couch. When Remus returns from the kitchen with a drink, the other man has his head in his hands. Remus sits next to him and puts a comforting arm around his shoulders and just lets Sirius breathe. Too much has happened. Too much.

After a minute or two of comfortable silence he hears Sirius say, "He's back, Remus."

"Who's back?" Remus asks, fearing that he already knows the answer.

"Voldemort," Sirius replies, his voice barely above a whisper, and Remus tenses at the confirmation. "Harry saw him come back. He killed that boy, that other boy, Remus. He—"

Something breaks then and Sirius can't continue. He stops and shudders and leans into Remus for a moment and Remus lets his hand wander in Sirius' long black hair before saying gently, "Start from the beginning. It might be easier that way."

Sirius nods and begins. He talks first about how he wandered around the British countryside for some months, mostly as a dog, before finally getting an owl from Dumbledore about a cave outside of Hogsmeade where he could stay. He speaks almost jokingly of having to live off rats and collect old _Daily Prophets_ that people threw out to find out anything of what was going on in the world at large. He had visited with Harry, kept an eye on Harry, tried to advise Harry as to what to do. But it turns out that they had both been barking up the wrong tree all along. _Moody_ was Voldemort's spy in the castle, or rather, not Moody, an old Death Eater impersonating Moody. He had helped Harry get to the center of the maze with Cedric, where the trophy actually turned out to be a portkey, which had transported the two to a graveyard. Sirius apologizes for sounding so farfetched, but Harry has to be telling the truth, Harry wouldn't lie about something like this.

And it's what happens inside of the graveyard that Remus does, indeed, find hardest to believe. Voldemort kills Cedric, yes, that he can understand. But then that strange ceremony with the bone, the blood, and the flesh—_Pettigrew's_ flesh, no less—that resurrects Voldemort is so strange, so dark, that Remus would not have believed it had he not already been familiar with the ritual from his knowledge of the Dark Arts. Then the summoning of the Death Eaters, the duel, the connection between Harry's wand and Voldemort's…it all seemed so implausible. And the fact that Harry had escaped with his life…

"Remus," Sirius says. "I believe him, it's just…he was so close, Remus, so close, to ending up like Lily and James…he handled himself so well, just like his father, but…I was so afraid for him, so worried, he isn't _my_ son, but he is, but in some ways…"

"I think I know what you mean," Remus tells him, holding him, letting him make as little sense as he likes. He knows, though, that there's more of James and Lily in Harry that shows than either of them could have imagined. And what do you _do_ with a boy like that? Do you act like a parent he's never known, or a friend he's never had?

Just a few more minutes of silence and Sirius straightens and says, "I should go…tell the others. But I'll be back this time. Dumbledore said…I think it's safe for me to be back, now. Here. With you."

"I'll go with you," Remus volunteers. "Or I'll tell half of them. You don't need to do it all yourself."

Sirius shakes his head. "Thank you, but I feel like…I have to, does that make sense? It might not. It's—"

"I'll wait up for you," Remus says.

"Thanks." And Sirius kisses Remus lightly and tells him he loves him before he walks out the door again.

Remus leans back into the couch and sighs and wonders—not for the first time, and not for the last—what they've all gotten into now, and how they'll ever get out of it.

* * *

Today was the day.

A month had passed. Time flies when you're having fun. And while initially awkward, the dueling sessions tutored by Professor McGonagall had become almost that. Fun. Of course, Remus never forgot the seriousness of what they were doing, training to be in the Order, part of an important secret organization, but Sirius sometimes did, and watching him run through curses and countercurses with that adrenaline-induced smile on his face made it seem less like work and more like play. And McGonagall was more than impressed by their progress, by Sirius' impossible drive to master every curse he didn't get the first time, and by Remus' apparent natural aptitude for defense against the Dark Arts. At the end of the month, she was supposed to submit a recommendation to Dumbledore as to whether or not they should be fully accepted into the Order, but McGonagall told them not to worry about it. Remus thought he saw her wink.

On that one fateful Monday night, McGonagall knocked on their door for the last time. Remus was cleaning up dinner, so Sirius answered. They were used to her by now. They knew when to expect her. They knew when they shouldn't be doing anything that could potentially create awkward situations like the one on the first day.

McGonagall walked briskly into the flat, her black cloak swishing behind her. "Thank you, Sirius. Where's Remus?"

"Kitchen," Sirius said. "Moony, get in here!"

Remus, who had just finished drying off the last dish, rushed in. "I'm here, I'm here. So, what's the verdict?"

She smiled. "Congratulations, boys."

"Yes!" Sirius punched the air victoriously. "We did it!" And before anyone could stop him or he'd even thought it through, he ran up to Minerva McGonagall and threw his arms around her in a hug. She made a little strangled throat-clearing noise and he let her go, startled. "Er, ah, sorry. Got a little carried away."

Professor McGonagall straightened her spectacles. "Understandable. Perfectly understandable. Now, you two will be coming with me. We're flying tonight, just so you know how to get there, and in the future be aware that there will be protections set up to keep anyone from Apparating directly into the house." They nodded. Remus didn't really like this idea. "Good. Grab your brooms."

"I, erm, I don't own a broom," Remus said. He'd never been able to afford one of his own, and it seemed useless to buy one when he could Apparate or Floo almost anywhere.

McGonagall looked at him rather sternly. "I'm sure you won't mind flying with Sirius, Remus."

"I—er, I mean, I won't, but…"

"I don't use a broom," Sirius explained. "And he's afraid of the flying motorbike."

"With good reason! That motorbike is a menace to society! I'm convinced that it goes out and hunts small animals at night. Maybe small children."

"You're being absolutely ridiculous. There's nothing wrong with the motorbike. It has a wider seat than a broom, anyhow, so you're less likely to fall off while flying over London."

"Falling. Thanks. That makes me feel _great_ about flying on anything."

"Remus," Professor McGonagall interjected. "Calm down. I'm inclined to agree with Sirius on this one. Flying is perfectly safe if you can keep two hands on a broomstick." Remus opened his mouth to protest, and McGonagall shot him a look. "I've never known you to be so unreasonable about anything before."

"I don't…like flying," he finished lamely.

"I'm sorry," McGonagall said, a little coldly. "You're going to have to. You need to know how to get to headquarters. Now, you're either coming with Sirius, who I'm sure would be happy to share his motorbike, or with me."

Remus gulped.

When they dismounted about a half an hour later, Remus was windswept and his knees were shaky and he felt like he was going to be sick. And this was why he didn't like flying. Werewolves weren't meant to fly. Werewolves were meant to stay on the ground, where they couldn't fall thousands of feet and break their necks. He felt ill. He felt very, very ill. Sirius, however, was focused on something entirely different.

"I can't believe you chose to ride with _McGonagall_ instead of me!" he exclaimed, dismounting his motorbike smoothly. "What were you _thinking_?"

"That she's older and wiser and doesn't operate some enchanted and highly dangerous Muggle contraption," Remus said, sitting down on the cool, cool grass and trying to concentrate on keeping his dinner in his stomach, where it belonged.

Sirius sat next to him. "I feel like you don't trust me."

"I trust you," Remus said, "just not to be careful. I saw you doing all those loops back there. And if we could please not have this conversation _now_—" He was going to be sick. He was going to be sick. He lay on his side and waited.

Sirius looked genuinely concerned now. "Breathe, Moony, breathe," he said softly, stroking Remus' arm. "You'll be fine. Relax. Breathe. Deep breaths."

After a minute or two, Remus obviously wasn't going to hurl, his color had become somewhat less green, and he felt a bit better. He sat up slowly. "Oh man. Sirius, I'm sorry."

Sirius shrugged. "Motion sickness happens. And you haven't flown much before, have you?" Remus nodded. "Yeah, don't worry about it. For the record, I would have been a lot more careful had you been on the bike. Need help getting up?"

Remus nodded. Sirius took his hand and stood, pulling Remus up and catching him in an embrace. Remus held on, only partially to keep himself upright. He buried his head in Sirius' shoulder, the place where his soft hair used to fall. Sirius had gotten it cut the week before, and thought it was still thick, it was shorter than it had ever been. "I don't like your new haircut," he said into Sirius' neck. "I miss your hair. Grow it out."

"You're just delirious from the motion sickness," Sirius laughed. "Come on, we should go, McGonagall's waiting for us."

They walked together to where McGonagall was standing, and Remus became aware of his surroundings for the first time. They'd landed in the middle of an apparently empty lot of land right in the middle of a new-looking suburban neighborhood. Some of the houses still had "For Sale" signs up. It looked very quiet, very peaceful. A sort of an odd place for headquarters, but, then again, no one would think of looking for a secret wizarding organization out here.

"Here," Professor McGonagall said, handing each one a scrap of parchment, "Read these and memorize them."

The two recognized Dumbledore's handwriting and memorized the unfamiliar address on the parchment. When they looked up, their eyes met a strange sight: a house appeared to press its way out of the ground. An ordinary, new-looking Muggle-house, first the roof, then the second story, and then the bottom level, grew up on the spot as if someone had planted it, until it sat there, occupying the space as if it had been there all along. Which it probably had. Sirius and Remus glanced at each other. They'd expected something of the like, but that was, wow. A _lot_.

"Well, boys," Professor McGonagall said, "Come inside. Most of the Order is already here."

The pair looked at each other and followed her through the completely ordinary front door of the completely ordinary house. The interior was bright and cheerfully lit, the floor hardwood, the walls white and blank and devoid of any personality. They were in a small foyer, which led to a hallway, which branched off, one side to an office of some sort, the other a dining room. The stairs ahead of them led to a second floor that they couldn't see, but Remus assumed that it was practically set up with bedrooms to accommodate Order members who needed to spend the night for whatever reason. A long table with benches had been set up to accommodate everyone in the dining room, and Remus immediately saw a familiar face sitting at the far end.

"Frank!"

Frank turned around—he'd been talking to a round-faced girl sitting across from him—and grinned and waved from the table. "Remus! Sirius! Hey! Long time no see, huh?"

"Yeah," Sirius agreed. "Didn't know you were in the Order. Kinglsey here too?"

"Not yet," Frank said. "I don't know if he was contacted, honestly, with us being not supposed to ask and all. Oh, this is my friend Alice," he added abruptly, indicating the girl, who looked a couple of years older than him. "Alice, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black."

"I remember you two," Alice said, looking from one to the other. "You…Sirius, you were always getting in trouble. You—and James, right?—jinxed the banners in the Great Hall so that they would stay Gryffindor colors even though Ravenclaw had won that year." She grinned and gave them a thumbs up. "Nice work there."

"Well," Sirius said, almost modestly, "we try."

"I know Alice through Auror training," Frank said. "She's only got a year left and I've just started."

"How is that?" Remus asked, genuinely curious. "James and Kingsley are doing that with you, right?"

"A blast. Literally." Remus rolled his eyes at the horrible, mangled pun, but Sirius grinned, no doubt relishing the image of James, Frank, and Kingsley blowing things up during training. "I mean, it's hard work, but with James and Kingsley we're able to make it enjoyable enough. Everyone at the Ministry is impressed that three boys from one year met the Auror qualification standards."

"We're also impressed at how well you three are doing," Alice said, smiling at Frank. "Took me awhile to get the hang of it."

"Well, we help each other out," said Frank humbly.

Just then, Sirius grabbed Remus' arm and whispered excitedly, "Remus, do you know who that is?"

"Who?" Remus looked over to the people who Sirius was gaping at, all the way at the end of the room, two tall men talking to a guy in a dorky-looking hat. "Hat Guy?"

"No, _no_, not Hat Guy. The people _talking_ to Hat Guy. Ugh, for once I wish you were James." Remus thought Sirius was kidding. He thought so. "Those are the Prewett Brothers! The Prewett…no…stop shaking your head at me Moony, you should know who they are. Practically _legends_ among Hogwarts pranksters…no…you are _so_ culturally uneducated!"

"You're one to talk. So do you want to go meet them, or what?"

Sirius paled suddenly. "Meet the Prewetts? You mean, like, talk to them? Face-to-face? Person to person? As…as…equals?"

"Sure, why not?"

"I think McGonagall wants to introduce us to someone," Sirius said abruptly, and he dragged Moony the other direction.

Professor McGonagall did indeed want to introduce them to someone, Edgar Bones. He and his sister, Amelia, were already moving up in the Ministry, and Remus couldn't help but feel more than proud when she talked about their aptitude for defense. Then Marlene McKinnon, who Sirius seemed to get on with but Remus found a bit intimidating, and a wild-haired woman named Dorcas Meadowes, and then two very familiar faces burst through the front door and there weren't time for any more introductions.

"Padfoot! Moony!" James exclaimed, leading Lily Evans in with his arm around her waist. "Sorry we're late, Moody took us by way of Scotland to make sure we weren't being followed."

"Worked, didn't it?" asked a gruff voice from behind James and Lily, and Sirius and Remus craned their necks to glimpse a rather grizzled and scarred man who must be the famed, if paranoid, Auror, Alastor Moody. "We didn't give 'em the chance to catch on."

"Well, erm." James seemed of a bit of a loss for words, obviously not wanting to insult his mentor. "Yeah, I guess…it did work."

Peter came puffing in behind them. "Hey guys! Am I too late? Have we started?"

"No, Peter," said a very fond, familiar voice behind them. They turned to see Albus Dumbledore, dressed in a long, official looking robe, his blue eyes shining behind his spectacles. "Not yet."

"Where'd he bloody come from?" Sirius whispered loudly.

"We're waiting on three more, and then we'll begin," Dumbledore continued, as if nothing had been said, although Remus was almost positive he'd heard Sirius. "I would step away from the door, if I were you," he told Peter.

No sooner had a rather puzzled Peter edged away than the door burst open, smashing into the wall where he had just been standing. In the doorway stood a giant of a man with a mane of bushy black hair and a thick beard, a familiar sight to all of the Marauders.

"Hagrid!" James, Sirius, Peter, and Remus all cried in unison, happy to see the Hogwarts gamekeeper, who had always been friendly.

"Hello, good to see yeh all here" Hagrid said cheerfully. Then, addressing Dumbledore, he added, "Sorry I'm late, sir, it's hard, relyin' on Muggle transportation. Not sure how they manage. An' I picked up these two along the way, Diggle took a wrong turn over London and was havin' some trouble."

He moved out of the doorway to reveal Kingsley Shacklebolt, and an excitable-looking older wizard who must have been at least two heads shorter, despite his ridiculous top hat. They were a comical pair, and Remus wondered what it was like for a wizard like Diggle to have to train someone like Kingsley. An interesting experience, no doubt. It would be hard to find a more ill-matched pair. Had Dumbledore done that on purpose?

"Well," Dumbledore said pleasantly, "if that's everyone I believe we should begin. Please, take your seats."

As the small party in the foyer trooped back towards the dining room, Remus heard Sirius whisper to James, "Hey, Frank and Alice, is anything…going on there?"

James looked bewildered. He wrinkled his brow. "What? I—no, I don't think so. Why do you ask, Pads?"

"No reason," Sirius said. "But if I were you, I'd keep an eye on them. The way they act around each other made me think they're a couple."

James laughed and shook his head at his friend's assumption, but Remus wasn't willing to dismiss it so easily. Oddly enough, Sirius' intuition when it came to these matters, relationships, that was, was unbelievably keen, almost as sharp as Lily's. Must come from experience. He wouldn't be surprised if Sirius were right about Frank and Alice. Now that he thought about it, they _did_ seem a little too smiley for their own good.

Everyone, Remus, Sirius, James, Lily, and Peter, that was, took seats on the right-hand side of the long table. Remus found himself squeezed in between Sirius and Moody, who had insisted on the seat to the right of the head, which was Dumbledore's place. Perhaps, as an Auror, he thought it would be best if he personally saw to the protection of the leader of the Order. Or perhaps he was just crazy. Remus supposed that James and Lily, after a month being instructed personally by him, would be the best judges of that.

Dumbledore was the only one who remained standing. With his long white hair and beard, those wise, alert blue eyes behind the spectacles, and the flowing silver robe, he was indeed an impressive sight. He cleared his throat, but it was an unnecessary gesture, as he already had everyone's attention. When he began, there was no trace of the usual good humor in his voice. "I believe you all know why we are here."

No one moved. No one made a sound. Several people blinked at him curiously.

"You are here, of course," he continued, "on my request. I believe that each and every one of you brings with you experience, talent, courage, integrity, loyalty, cleverness, or some mixture of those qualities which we so value. The question is, _why_ have I called you here?

"As I'm sure you are aware, as I'm sure you were told upon being informed that your services were needed, a Dark Wizard is coming to power. Voldemort." Peter and a few others, including giant Hagrid, flinched at the name. "Yes, Voldemort. Calling him You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named only turns the man into something more than what he is. A man. He is motivated, as many other men are, have, will be, by a thirst for power. He has turned to Dark Magic and evil deeds to quench this thirst. He has been gathering followers, Death Eaters, surreptitiously for the last five years. More are being enticed to join him every day, with false promises of wealth, power, or anything their heart desires.

"You've surely heard by now of the mysterious disappearances, of the deaths. I am sorry to say that the _Daily Prophet_ will not report these murders as the work of Voldemort and his followers, although there has been much evidence to lead to the belief that they are. However, I am sure that you have also come to the very same conclusion as I, that the wizarding world, that the Muggle world, for that matter, is in grave danger.

"The most horrifying truth—and I will not mislead you on this point—is Voldemort's goal in seeking power. He wishes to cleanse the world of all non-wizards, or those not from wizarding stock. He believes that this will result in a superior race, that ridding the world of those so-called blemishes will make it a better place for all those worthy of living there. Consequently, many of his supporters come from old, pureblood lines." Remus squeezed Sirius' hand under the table. _You're not one of them._

"But who those support him are beside the point, as we are all united in opposition. Everyone present should know that this could not be farther from the truth. All creatures, wizard, Muggle, or otherwise, has the potential to bring something into this world which serves for its betterment. The Order of the Phoenix was formed to defend those whose rights would be taken away, whose lives would be destroyed. Among the Order, all are equal. We're not just sabotaging Voldemort's plans; we are preventing him from destroying millions of innocent lives. Our goal is simple. The task is complex."

Dumbledore seemed to be nearing the end of his speech. He surveyed them all over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "The protection of the human race. It is a noble goal. Some would call it a fool's war we're waging. As of now, we are outnumbered. But we have something that Voldemort does not, and will never truly have. It is something in our hearts, something which cannot be taken away from us. And that, fellow members of the Order of the Phoenix, is a cause worth fighting for."

Dumbledore bowed his head; he had finished. After a few moments of silence, everyone started clapping. Some stood, even. The room, no, the entire house filled with the overwhelming noise.

After the applause had carried on for a minute or so, Dumbledore raised his hands to quiet them. The mirth was back in his face. "Now, I'd say something to commemorate the occasion, the first meeting, is in order. At least before we get to all of the picky little administrative details. Minerva, did you bring the camera?"

"Yes, it's in the living room," said Professor McGonagall, gesturing to the adjacent room.

"Excellent. Well, file out, everyone, and follow Minerva. I trust her to know what she's doing."

In the chaos that ensued, with everyone trying to get into the same room through the same small doorway at the same time, Remus was separated from Sirius. He didn't see him again until they had all organized themselves into rows somehow and Sirius waved at him from the other side of the room. James, Lily, and Peter had all ended up next to each other down in the front.

Kingsley, who, whenever James and Sirius decided to take Remus' camera and go on a photographic rampage, always said he didn't photograph well, was helping Professor McGonagall set up the tripod and get the camera focused. Technology these days was just beyond some people.

"Yes, yes, thank you Kingsley, I think I've got it now." Professor McGonagall peered into the camera. "Oh, for goodness' sakes, look happy, this isn't a funeral."

"Yeah," someone said, perhaps one of the Prewett brothers. "We're saving the world, after all. Is this how you want to be remembered?"

Some laughed at that. The general somber mood had broken. Whatever came tomorrow came tomorrow. For today, they had the Order. They had each other. Remus looked at Sirius and smiled.

Professor McGonagall pressed the shutter button and captured the moment forever.


End file.
